


Faith in His Veins

by TheAntiHero



Series: The Follies and Endeavors of a Water Dragon’s Army [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nohr | Conquest Route, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAntiHero/pseuds/TheAntiHero
Summary: How befuddled that stream embossed his vision, once so clear.How vague, that stream.He realized that he had grown to hate that crimson stream.How he hated that stream so.He and Velouria took it upon themselves to find what it meant to house it.





	1. Revealing Things Dismal

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Written: January 25, 2017
> 
> Revised and Edited: November 29, 2017
> 
> Author's Note: My, my, my, what have we here? An unpopular pairing? Yes, yes; I've always found these two cute together and I simply couldn't help myself from writing a little something about them. Please enjoy.

**Faith in His Veins**

* * *

 

Now was the first time Siegbert recalled being utterly stranded, afraid, and helpless. There he was, wandering through the labyrinth of tunnels and turns dubbed the caves of Mokushu. Gudrun, his horse, had taken a shuriken to one of his sturdy legs, which suddenly made him not-so-sturdy. Not sturdy enough, at least, to shoulder a rider as heavy as Siegbert himself. He had been left with no choice but to dismount and guide his obedient companion through the ominousness of their alien battlefield, lance in hand. Their slowness isolated them from the rest of the army, who marched onward, never noticing their absence.

That was why he was stranded.

Taunted by every rustle.

Every heave.

Every creak.  
  
Every thud.

Never had Siegbert fought in such an environment; his Deeprealm consisted heavily of marshes and swamps when he strayed from town, which happened to be often. He and Gudrun were well studied in such places thanks to their several outings against mysterious enemies, but where they stood now did not bare even the slightest of reminiscence to their comfort zone. Rocket walls constricted them, guided by nothing but blind faith and torch. Every second ripened them into a more hearty fruit for their enemies to pluck.

At one point, at the beginning of his isolation, the boy hoped he would, by some miraculous stroke of luck, be able to catch up with the safety that came with the presence his comrades. Quickly, though, his aspirations became extinguished when he found that several forks along his way did not want to tell him which path they selected. The dirt below him gave him no clues, as both paths were littered with the indentations of traffic. If he found the shapes of hooves in the dirt, he would know where to go, but they had been covered. The army had split, or the enemy lingered some place near. Siegbert did not know the answer, which could prove costly should he be mistaken in his choosing.

He could not stay as he was forever; he had to keep moving. Every second was a second wasted, a second he may have wanted back should he be united with a foul end. Any choice was as good as the other, since he had no idea, nor intuition, which was the superior. Out of randomness, he grimly chose to walk the path that eased to the left. It only led to another long corridor just as constricting and uniform as the last. Though intimidated and tempted to succumb to the will of fear, Siegbert continued, Gudrun and lance in tow. He was not sure what good a lance would do against shuriken, the weapon with which every prowling ninja was armed. Though it was false security the lance gave him, it was security nonetheless. He took to the weapon kindly and held it close as though it had become a friend. Because he happened to already be a friend, he eased the limping Gudrun closer.

Cautious wandering led him further into the caves. Correction: cautious wandering made him more lost. Not even distant sounds of battle could be heard to comfort him. What he would give to hear the ear-piercing shrill of a rallying wyvern or the chilling clangs of war. Anything could ease Siegbert's mind, he thought. Such was why, with each step more he traveled, he gradually grew more desperate than before.

It seemed that Gudrun sensed his fear, as seen by the fact that he released a soft bray. This, at first, startled his master before he turned to look at him. He blinked, sighed, then brought the hand that carried the reigns to the bridge of the beast's nose. He pat him a few times before shielding his eyes.

"Are you nervous too?" he murmured. "Fret not. So long as we whet our caution, we ought to be fine. Hold tight, friend. As soon as this battle is over, the healers will do what they can to help that pitiful wound on your leg."

Gudrun did nothing to respond. Understandable, considering that he was a horse. The most he did do, however, was continue limping by his side as they trudged on.

What Siegbert did not know was the fact that he did not wander in the loneliness in which he thought he wandered. Behind lurked a mysterious figure. He armed himself in plates and thick garb, but no matter how much he packed down, his strides spoke not a word. His silent trails would be the reason why, just seconds later, Siegbert felt a shuriken soar and whisper past his prone ear. With widening eyes, he whipped around to find his attacker. To his misfortune, he only turned around to meet his opponent, who had intersected his radius of personal space. In a matter of seconds, the fiend brought one of his stars to his face and bestowed a slash upon his cheek. With a shout, Siegbert stumbled back, but not far. He released the lead of a frightened Gudrun while taking matters into his hands. Before the ninja could inflict any damage more, he grimaced and drove his lance into his gut, all without so much as a second thought.

The attack was enough to force his foe to a screeching halt, but not scot-free; while Siegbert was distracted, assuming victory was his, the enemy brought an additional shuriken from his bag and hurled it at him. This one did not miss like its predecessor, for it drove one of its sharp points into the bullseye marked upon his target's shoulder. The throat would have been a superior target, but perhaps it was agony that skewed his aim.

Siegbert continued to try shoving his weapon deeper into the man, fear covering his face, drenched completely in sweat. Pain meant nothing to him, for he had become too overrun by fear, too overrun by adrenaline, to feel the sensations erupting in his shoulder. He shivered, but the urgency made him want to push farther, farther than he would ever consider with a sane state of mind. To infuriate him, he could not get past whatever stood in the way within the man's stomach, but he milked countless groans from his victim.

The ninja's hands became limp, dropping the few shurikens he had laced between his once healthy fingers. He began breathing slowly, slowly as if he were relaxed, or happy even. At long last, after a chase that had the pole bury itself just a smidgen deeper, the man's back touched the wall. There, leaning against it, he continued to breathe. His eyes, once closed to house pain, slid open suddenly to reveal a sharp pair of brown eyes. Dark irises swirled with mahogany and tree bark. Siegbert wondered if that was always the color of his eyes, even when he was swaddled in his mother's loving arms, reaching for the hand of his father. Those same eyes probably met him every morning when he went to wash his face, for he saw them in the reflection of the water. Those eyes met the ones of someone he loved, or someone he hated. They met a child a lover may have bore, or gazed upon the wonders and disgusts of the world.

It was those eyes that caused him to shiver, gasp, then quickly withdraw his weapon from the man's belly. His breath quivered as he studied the red that drenched the iron point mounted at the crown of his lance, the taut string that held it in place, and the shaft crafted from the corpse of an oak. He stumbled back, mortified by his handiwork.

"First... time in a war... kid?" the man whispered. Red trickled out of his lips to speckle his chin and cheeks.

"Y-You... You talk..." So accustomed had he become to fighting enemies of nightmares, enemies that could and could not be seen. They said no words, nor spewed crimson when opened.

They were not human.

But this one _was_.

"Of course... I talk, even if it is against the code of my kind..." He groaned suddenly when he hacked up another glob of red. "You look... awful young, and yet... the ripe age to be out here... killing your fellow man..."

"You are not my fellow man."

"How... so?"

"You are of the nation of Mokushu, once a friend of Nohr, but now a traitor."

"Ah, I see... a fellow man... is a man of... similar... nationality... to you..." He chuckled slightly. "Sounds just like... a Nohrian.. to me..." He lifted his head slightly. "Tell me... How is a fellow man a... man of similar nationality... and not... a fellow man... in humanity, Nohrian?"

Taken back, Siegbert stepped away. He continued to stare at his victim in horror, watching as the blood trickled from his wound and pooled on the floor not too far from his lounging form. It grew wider. And wider. He feared it would harass his boots and haunt him so long as he continued to wear them.

"We share the same ideals and goals. The same blood and appreciations. The same culture. That is what makes a nation and what binds its people."

The man cracked a smile. It sent chills down his spine.

"So educated and insightful... child... You must be... in line... for Nohr's throne. Son of... Xander... Son of Garon. Your... armor, so violet... and your eyes... so cold... You are Siegbert of Nohr..."

"H-How do you-"

"Do you know... why you are at war... with Hoshido, Siegbert?" the man inquired. "Have you ever... questioned why things are... Why all the blood? Why all the hostility?"

Siegbert shook his head recklessly.

"I am obeying my responsibilities: if another nation comes against my own, I am called to defend it. I am Nohr's rightful protector by brith, so I am but simply fulfilling my duties."

"What if I am... to tell you... that it was your father's father that came... against Hoshido first? In greedy pursuit of conquest... King Garon ambushed Emperor Sumeragi, killed his many men... and stole one of his children... then used that child to slay Empress Mikoto years later..." He coughed again. "Your bloodline... is tainted... little prince... having such an immediate history... Do you condone these things? This... shedding of innocent blood...?"

"Never." Siegbert's grip on his lance strengthened as he pounced on the man. He avenged his injury by driving his weapon into the man's shoulder. After a scream, he continued to roar. "I will not tolerate the slander of my father and my father's father! My father, my country, my bloodline... it is all good. I will defend that goodness with my all!"

Though he had been impaled once again, the man could only burst into a fit of insane laughter. Those eyes, those eyes that once struck Siegbert with such conviction, lost their humanity.

"So much like your blood, young one... You are the splitting image of your father. Your golden locks of royalty... The eyes that passionately... seek what is just in their perception... The bellows... of a man that demands respect..." Siegbert did not notice how his eyes wandered softly to the side. Siegbert did not notice how, afterward, his grin appeared to spread to deepen its wickedness. "Run... Prince..."

Siegbert should have noticed.

Shurikens, like a river's infuriated current, flew out of nowhere and pelted his body, each drawing a painful howl. Each part of the side of his body, ranging from his arms to his flank to his thigh, became covered in shurikens like the hairs of a cactus. He abandoned the lance inside the man to stumble away, almost unable to move his entire right side. When he lifted his head to see his attackers, his eyes widened to find several ninjas more. They rushed toward him from one of the narrow veins of the caves and dispersed into the opening, where they continued to rain stars on the boy until he was brought down. Submitted to the dirty ground, Siegbert huffed and moaned in agony. Gudrun, with an intense bray, strayed from the action and mingled within a corner.

"That's enough," muttered one of the ninjas. As he commanded, the rest of his gang halted with their attacks and went to glaring at their opponent. Siegbert, becoming desperate, began hissing swears beneath his breath as he struggled to move. He was far too handicapped by bolts of lightening that reigned inside his body to get far. He surrendered soon into his worthless endeavors. He became still, even as the gang surrounded him. One in particular knelt at his side.

"You fight a wrong fight, Nohrian. Hoshido did nothing of fault."

"I won't listen to you, for you speak lies I do not believe. Never will I betray, nor doubt, my land."

"Truly so? If you believe not what I say, why do you take it with such sincerity? Why do you become so upset to hear it?"

"I know they are lies."

"No... You have been questioning your lineage for a long time. Deep down, you know I speak the truth. You have received the confirmation you did not wish to hear, so you reject it." He rose as he gave his men a serious glance. A motion was all he needed to do to get them to move. "The boy won't listen, so we should do the next best thing. Kill him and seize the horse. It will be useful once it is healed."

Mortified, Siegbert made attempts once again to crawl away, but they would also be for naught; his body came to a cease when several pieces of metal more began striking and sticking to him.

He yelled.

He screamed harder than he had ever screamed before, but deep down he knew nobody would be there to save him. He had been left behind by the army on accident, bound to sink into obscurity until the battle ended. Only then would his fellow comrades take notice of his absence, and it would be much too late.

But one heard him.

Thunder rumbled.

The ground quaked.

The sounds of footsteps, heavy footsteps, boomed their way to the other side of the wall.

There sounded a crash.

Another one.

And another.

Each left the wall nearby in a further state of ruin until the cracks that spread across its surface submitted to the power of one final blow. Its sturdiness crumbled, soon violated by a monstrous beast of black, magenta, and teal. Its humongous arms slammed against the ground in fury before releasing a wailing howl. Baring its menacing claws, it began rushing toward the crowd that surrounded the fallen Siegbert.

"Have mercy, Amaterasu!" one shouted. "It's a Wolfskin!"

"Kill it! It's with the Nohrians!"

"No! Run!"

None of the crowd could make a decision in time before the beast thundered up to them to take swipes. Just one stroke of its claws proved to be lethal. If one swipe did not kill them, a follow up did. Anything its opponents tried against it, such as tossing their weapons, did nothing but bounce off the creature's thick hide. While the ninjas wordlessly watched the beast, baffled at its might, powerful claws continued to plow through their numbers. Some were thrown across the opening, defeated before they slammed against the wall, while others were crushed beneath the flat soles of feet. One, an unfortunate soul, was consumed whole.

Though he should have been relieved, Siegbert watched the confrontation to its end, drowning in terror. It was not a long battle at all, for the monster stole the life of his every enemy at record speeds. The floor, like the border of the beast's mouth, were soaked in blood. The walls were soaked in blood. Siegbert was soaked in blood.

The stench drove him to illness within seconds, which was why he, while gagging, set a hand over his mouth and nose. Moisture spilled from either of his eyes, once so cold, now frightened. He did not move, even when the monster, the huge, wolffish creature, approached him. With one of its giant paws, it gently lifted him. Fangs born, it looked down at its palm with a pair of glowing red eyes, then steadily began bringing him closer to its mouth. Siegbert would have risen or spoken to warn the beast. They fought on the same side; comrades. This creature could not eat its comrades...

But the pain was so great, he could not bring himself to try.

Fortune blessed him, for he would have been chomped to bits had matters not taken a more favorable turn. Instead of gnashing its fangs to consume him alive, the Wolfskin gaped its nostrils wide to give him a trio of heavy sniffs. It growled with satisfaction and gave him a slight lick with the tip of its tongue.

It seemed to not be in the cards for Siegbert to die that day... But what he did not know was that, within days to come, he would find himself mistaken.

Siegbert indeed died, never to be brought back.

The blind faithfulness of a child.

The dignity, the respect.

The pride.

When he awoke again, he found himself within the walls of a tent. With bandages snaked all over his pitiful body, he remained helplessly immobile. If he tried hard enough, he could manage to have his head budge slightly, where he took note of the lantern burning at his side. The tent was larger than those in which he and his fellow soldiers slept, for it stood tall enough to allow standing, walls decorated by charts of anatomy and recipes.

The medical tent, he came to conclude.

He did not have long to let his eyes wander, for just moments after coming to, he felt a hand gently run through his golden locks. At the price of a wince, he turned to see his visitor. He found himself somewhat delighted to find a woman sitting at his side. Much like himself, she too had hair of yellow, baring eyes bluer than the depths of a treacherous ocean. She boasted the gifts of lovely pale skin, a wealthy chest, and delicately powerful hands. She was a truly beautiful woman to behold, better known by the name of Charlotte. He happened to know that woman well.

"Oh, my darling Siegbert. You had me terrified, going out there and getting lost," she scolded softly. He managed to grow a slight smile, but he failed raise his hand to cup it over hers. As much as he wanted there to be, there remained no will within him to cultivate the strength. He had no choice but to to settle with a whisper.

"Hello, mother," he greeted, watching as she rose from her seat. She began scurrying around the room in search of something. She did not seem to search for anything specific, but curiosity plagued him nonetheless.

"Do you need anything, dear? What can I get you? A damp cloth? Some food? Medicine?"

"I need not a thing. Please, worry not for me."

"Psh. There you go again, sounding just like your father, all independent and the suchlike." She gave up on searching for anything to aid him and set herself beside his bed again, this time with a pinch more sincerity. "I'd give you a massage like we always do, but those pesky rats got you all over. I don't think there was a single place the medics said wasn't wounded." She smiled slightly as she reached out to take an unscathed cheek. She then began to pinch it a few times, or maybe she was supposed to be rubbing him. "Well, everywhere except here. I guess I'll have to settle with that."

He remained still in the silence, feeling the tips of his mother's immaculate fingers bury themselves into the stiff muscles that created his jaw. The longer he stared at the roof of the tent in the silence, the duller his pitiful eyes stooped. He could feel every heartbeat and every gaping wound. It spiraled him to a deeper state of misery until he could have sworn he saw darkness swirling around his head. It glared at him menacingly, lustful and hungry, as its tongue ran along its chops. He felt the need to talk, otherwise it may have consumed him.

"Has my father come to visit while I rested?"

"No. He's been busy, but believe me when I say he's been wanting to come see you. The last battle was a wake up call for us, so Lord Corrin wants us to have longer training hours every day. We nearly lost the entire battle." A chuckle roused from her mouth. "We probably nearly lost because you got separated from the rest of the army. Of course, I'm sure it was the worst on you... All alone, surrounded by nothing but enemies... My, were you lucky that the wolf girl came just in time to save you."

Wolf girl... A reference to Velouria, daughter of Keaton. He was not sure who it was that came to his rescue at the time of the encounter, seeing that father and daughter looked almost identical in beast form. In retrospect, though, this newly acquired information made the most sense, but it too harbingered confusion. Siegbert and Velouria were good friends, so a natural conclusion would suppose she would come at his beck and call. However, never had he thought she was capable of the savagery she displayed. Keaton was the most infamous for being ruthless, not his daughter. It made him wonder: had Velouria, known for her apathy, become as furious as she behaved?

Then again, it may have just been that this was his first battle with the army. What he witnessed was more than likely a side of her she reserved, perhaps restrained, for her enemies.

The scenery, making a rerun through his mind, made him feel ill again.

But that was not what made him rage boil inside his blood so suddenly. He could feel it, the heat that sapped his stream of moisture until it became nothing but thick, gooey molasses. It reeked, the smell of waterless blood. The scent revived a grimace, and he turned his face.

"Mother..." he whispered later. "Are you Nohrian?"

Charlotte halted with her petting.

"Why, of course. Born and raised. What makes you ask all of a sudden?"

"No reason."

"You have no savvy when it comes to lying, son; nobody asks those kinds of questions out of the blue. What's on your mind? Lay it on me."

"I said it was nothing."

Slowly, Charlotte retracted her hand and frowned. It was as if his anger had rubbed off on her, but only slightly. Had she been injected with all he housed deep within his bosom, the tent would have been whisked into flames and flying with the wind.

"Son. You know you aren't supposed to hide things from me."

"If I don't want to tell you, I'm not going to tell you."

"Watch your tone, young man; this is your mother you're speaking to. What's gotten into you?" She paused in the midst of the tension, sure to take a deep breath. Afterward, she shook her head. "Never mind. That was your first battle after all. The things your young eyes must've seen... They're sights that change people forever. It's natural for you to be upset." It surprised Siegbert to see her rise, stretch, then begin to head toward the exit. "I can't persuade you to confide in me, but I'm certain your father can. I'll have him here the soonest I can get him."

He was not sure if the statement was a threat or an attempt to help him in his plight. What she did not know, however, was the fact that the sight of his father, the tall and powerful Xander, furthered his descent into the realm of damnation. The mere sight of him, the golden locks of royalty, the eyes that passionately sought what was just in their perception, the bellows that demanded respect...

Except Xander did not bellow at the sight of his injured son, but neither did he smile. His face remained cold by the front of business, hardened by professionalism, as he made his way across the room. It was not a large room in which they found themselves, hence why Xander sat himself at Siegbert's side within seconds of arrival.

Siegbert could not look him in the eye. Not because he sat in too much pain to move, but because he had not the dignity, nor the worthiness. He pursued the struggles of avoiding him as though he too were a beast that slithered from beneath his bed, baring his fangs. Xander: a sight much too frightening for marveling, a sight too glorious to possibly face, not even to worship.

"Good evening, Siegbert." His voice, like a lion, sounded with such noblity, such control. Siegbert once wanted that voice, but suddenly... so suddenly... he felt repelled by its every decibel, word, and shape. He cringed as he looked away. What he would give to drive out the tears that built in his eyes. His eyelids offered a compromise: he could hide the tears if he closed them, but his father would surely know what he hid if he did. Regardless, he took the offer gladly.

"Hello, father..." he responded pitifully.

"It is good to see you are in decent shape after the caves of Mokushu," Xander muttered grimly. "It was a fierce encounter."

"Truly."

"Why do you avoid my gaze, son? Look upon those who speak to you. Was that not a basic of the mannerisms you've been taught?"

His eyes slid open. The tears had dried, thankfully, but the threat of resurrection constantly loomed. When he felt their return, he spitefully wished them away.

"Forgive me," he whispered timidly.

"You have all my forgiveness. Now, tell me: would you care to explain your stoop in mood? According to your mother, your attitude has changed much since the last time either of us saw you, which would be when the army divided in the caves. I am always here to listen to your troubles, Siegbert. That is one of the many duties I acknowledged upon becoming your father."

Siegbert's eyes slid away, only to promptly be lassoed and tugged back to the stern face of his father. A marvelous creature, that man; he degraded without saying a word.

"There is no need to worry, father. I am of the age to begin shouldering my own burdens, not throwing their weight on my mother and father. I need to grow."

"True, but what your young mind may not comprehend is that independence can stunt growth just as much as it can condone it. Though I am full grown with a child of my own, I have no shame in admitting that I have sometimes confided with my mother. You should feel no different."

"Please, father..." he sighed. "See that these issues are my own."

"I find the question you asked of your mother particularly curious," Xander mentioned. In doing so, he shifted his position in his chair. His judgmental eyes carefully surveyed the mummified body of his son. "Why does it matter so suddenly that she is Nohrian?"

"I was simply inquiring."

"Were you told something by your attackers, Siegbert?" He continued relentlessly. The power of his tone pressed his son, visibly distraught, to a state of misery. "If that is true, explain to me immediately. It is my job to settle whatever brings you doubt or disgrace."

"Father, please..."

"Siegbert." How his tone boomed without even raising. It made his underling cower. Seldom had he ever been this difficult with his father, and his father certainly did not have a tolerance for it. That might have been why they were such a foreign sight in a such a foreign position. "Give me an answer. I don't care what that answer is. You can lie to me and suffer the eventual consequences, or you can be truthful to me now. Whichever you wish to face is entirely up to you."

What pressure. What expectations.

Siegbert had to lie.

"Nothing was said to me. I am simply unnerved."

It was a wrong path to take, for down its gravel trail awaited destruction and heartache. He walked this road alone, not even accompanied by Gudrun. The loneliness proved to be such an unforgiving feeling, for it left him uneasy with each step and each twist down a winding path. Once or twice, he considered turning around; perhaps he was not deep enough in the forlorn woods to be lost. He may find a way out to make a safe recovery.

But how could he confess to his father that he lied?

He was the worst son to ever take the royal Nohrian name. To ever call himself a son. To ever walk the earth.

The sludge occupying his veins ceased to move.

His anger tormented him every night, more than the injuries of a hundred shurikens could ever inflict upon the hull of his vessel. He saw eyes appear through the darkness in the nighttime. Dark irises swirled with mahogany and tree bark. Siegbert wondered if that was always the color of his eyes, even when he was swaddled in his mother's loving arms, reaching for the hand of his father. Those same eyes probably met him every morning when he went to wash his face, for he saw them in the reflection of the water. Those eyes met the ones of someone he loved, or someone he hated. They met a child a lover may have bore, or gazed upon the wonders and disgusts of the world.

_"What if I am to tell you that it was your father's father that came against Hoshido first? In greedy pursuit of conquest, King Garon ambushed Emperor Sumeragi, killed his many men, and stole one of his children, then used that child to slay Empress Mikoto years later. Your bloodline is tainted, little prince, having such an immediate history. Do you condone these things? This shedding of innocent blood?"_

_"No. Already have I stated that I do not."_

_"But open your wounds, Siegbert. Watch the blood flow out of you and trickle onto the earth. Do you feel its fiery temperature? Your blood? Can you feel the darkness, the wickedness of King Garon? Your father shares the same blood. Is he no different than his father? Are you no different than your father who is no different than his father?"_

_"My father is good. He is a good man."_

_"And look at those who surround you. Your mother. Your retainer. Your friends. Your allies. Open them and you will find the same fiery blood that rages within you. Nohrians, a greedy and bloodthirsty race. Your kind has killed more innocents than the stars can count."_

_"Silence."_

_"To be Nohrian..."_

_"I said silence!"_

_"Is to be Garon..."_

_"Quiet!"_

_"To be Garon..."_

_"No!"_

_"Is to be..."_

He awoke.

A handful of weeks had Siegbert well enough to purchase liberation from the medical tent, free to pursue his business. Granted, he could not do terribly much with how pitiful his entire body remained with its stinging and gauze, but he could manage to get himself from place to place. It was miraculous, the number of people that waved to him as he passed. More often than not, they stopped their daily toil to check on him, make a comment on how quickly he healed, and carry on with their day.

They were all Nohrian with Nohrian blood coursing through their bodies.

It drove him deeper into the woods.

During his wandering about camp, one happened to coming skipping up to him with a call of his name. The volume alarmed him at first, but quickly recollected himself when he saw her nearing. Bright brown eyes met his within seconds, and before him she came to a screeching halt, grinned, and gave him a slight bow.

"Good day, Future Lord Siegbert," she, the chipper Soleil, greeted. "I'm glad to see you're out of that stuffy ol' tent. How're you feeling?"

He blinked a time or two before letting his eyes wander away, only to immediately recall his father scolding him for breaking eye contact with the people that spoke to him. He ignored the memory.

"I am fine. Sore, but fine."

"That's great. Your horse is doing well too. Shigure's so concerned about getting him back to good health he won't leave him alone. You're lucky he's in good hands." She paused when she happened to notice the frustration building in his eyes. This, of course, was followed by another smile. "Aw, you don't look so happy. I'd imagine so; I'd be pretty crabby too if I were stuck in a tent all day. You probably have lots of energy pent up inside you, so we should get you to blow it off. Wanna come spar with me?"

Siegbert felt his tongue run nervously over the top of his lips. At that moment, his eyes darkened.

"Soleil... I don't believe now is the best time..."

"Aw, why not?"

"Because... I have not been feeling like myself lately."

"That's nonsense." She took him by the wrist and began to insist on his following. She was a strong girl, so it did not seem that he had much of a choice in the matter. Begrudgingly, he followed after her, but not with a smile; no, he drowned. He felt the life being choked out of him. He felt his soul being crippled and dissolving.

He took a sword when it was handed to him. It was an awfully generic sword, much unlike the blade of his father. Siegfried radiated with power and mysteries... And the more he lingered on it, he realized it also radiated with darkness. The violet and red that swirled around that blade brewed so deep and thick, so frightening and wicked. The shrill it made as it screamed across the battlefield echoed in the banks of his memory. They were the shrills of banshees desperately clawing their way out of the deepest pit in Hell. The same pit from which Siegfried harvested its demonic power.

He hated that sword. And to think it would someday be his when his father grew wrinkly and old...

"Come at me, Future Lord Siegbert! I've been training a whole bunch with dad while you were snoozing away in the medical tent. I'm a heck a lot better than I was in our last match!"

He looked up from the generic sword that was not Siegfried. Meeting his eyes was Soleil, who stood across from him in the midst of an unoccupied training ground. She looked pumped, as proven by the antsy movements of her feet, the freshly polished pauldron on her shoulder, her boots, and leather gear. For some reason, he did not feel as excited for the encounter as he should have been.

Instead, all he could focus on was her eyes. They flowed with a rich shade of brown, but with no mahogany. Her cheeks, unlike one of his, were spotless. Beneath them flowed that crimson stream.

When he began charging at her, he realized that he had grown to hate that crimson stream.

How he hated that stream so.

How befuddled that stream embossed his vision, once so clear.

How vague, that stream.

Soleil effortlessly dodged his initial stroke, as he expected from her; she was far too predictable for his standards, which was why he immediately tilted his blade at an angle. She fell right into his setup, for she pressed against it during her evasion. A flush spread across her face as she popped a quick joke about herself and backed away. In doing so, she too brought up her own blade. Hers was a slim and nimble breed of iron that allowed her to be quick, unlike the heavier blade of his own. Nonetheless, he successfully blocked every attempt she made at striking him.

The more he blocked, the more his thoughts deepened.

He went back to the stains that spread across the floors of Mokushu. He laid there once, bathing in it. The stench revived itself in his unsuspecting nose, causing him to flinch. His distraction became the prime opportunity for Soleil to seize, and, being a strategic fighter, she did not waste the opportunity to swoop in for the strike. Unfortunately, she swooped in a tad too close. Though she intended to give him a poke on the thick hide covering his chest, the edge of her sword happened to graze across the tip of his thumb.

Siegbert hissed and stumbled back, studying his wound. Biting her lip, Soleil eased closer, nervous.

"O-Oh... Sorry about that. Clumsy me, right?" She tried to lighten the mood with a manufactured laugh.

But Siegbert did not hear it.

Instead, he could only hear his heartbeat. It throbbed so painfully loud. It busted his ears. Like his thumb, blood began to trickle out of them as well.

His blood.

His blood that spewed from the nick on his skin.

It was red...

So red...

And Nohrian.

He finally lost himself in the woods.

Siegbert lifted his eyes, wide eyed and bewildered. The sight threw Soleil off. For once, she appeared to be worried. It was the very reason why she began to back away.

"F-Future... Siegbert? You heard me right? I-I didn't mean to do that on purpose. You aren't mad... are you?" She grew fearful when his face hardened. His a face that had ever been seen on his father, even in his most livid of states. No. Siegbert surpassed his father in fury, and mercy lost its meaning. He approached Soleil slowly, taking cautious, perhaps pensive, steps forth. Not a thing would foreshadow his thoughts, nor movements.

Soleil called out to him when he came rushing toward her in a matter of seconds. He released a roar, the bellow of a man who demanded respect. His eyes burned with fire, no longer brown. His pupils, if they even remained, shrunk to the size of a mouser's. The blade in his hands did not hesitate to bring itself up and home toward his opponent's head. What it would meet upon landing, however, was the shrill of metal clashing upon metal. When he looked down, he would find it resting upon the pauldron strapped to Soleil's shoulder, which she held up in her defense. Fear clouded in her eyes as she cowered beneath him.

Every time she attempted to get away, he slashed at her again and again, always landing his hits on her shield. She called out to him, hoping to reach through his delusions as she continued to block his every aggression. Siegbert's blows, one after another, became heavier. His screaming heightened and lengthened, overpowering every cry with which Soleil attempted to reason.

The shrills induced headaches, but that was the least of her concerns. With his strikes coming with lethal force, she felt her shoulder threatening to give way. Every blow brought pain, which made her question if she could last another one of the lashes raining down upon her at lightening speeds. She forced herself to drop her weapon and use that hand to reinforce her arm, but by that point it did little; Siegbert's force evolved to the equivalent to the beatings of an infuriated beast's.

It was only a matter of time until she could feel her shoulder grow numb. The pauldron got knocked out of the way, leaving her vulnerable. Terror clouded in her eyes as she looked up. Above her stood Siegbert, raising his hefty sword one last time. It towered over his head, which only added to the speed at which it would come crashing down. Though she knew not the reason why, Soleil closed her eyes. Her end arrived; ended by her own lord.

Or had it?

Just before the blade could strike Soleil dead, the unforeseen fist of a ginormous hand knocked Siegbert away. The force sent him flying to the away, skidding across the ground after a landing and tumbling in the grass. The sword fled from his hand and hid itself in greenery.

When Soleil opened her eyes, she would gaze with shock as a tall beast- a Wolfskin- thundered past her, hunkered down on all fours, and tore its way over to the boy who lay motionless on the ground. It stopped when it hovered over him, but only to ingest the largest breath it could house. It released the buildup in Siegbert's face in the form of a bellow, a bellow far louder than Soleil's pleas or metal clashing upon metal.

The noise awoke Siegbert, and his eyes widened from their lifelessness. Fury became replaced by shock as he gazed into the glowing red eyes of a wolfish face. The bridge of its nose wrinkled, and, on either side of his shoulders, it buried its claws in the dirt, aching for carnage. It restrained itself and executed its fury in a growl.

_"What the hell were you thinking? You almost killed her!"_

Through the raspiness of thickened vocal chords, its voice was difficult to decipher, but Siegbert happened to know that tone well. Velouria again interfered, this time turning her immense strength against him. He knew full and well of what she was capable, which frightened him into stuttering in the silence with a trembling jaw.

"I-I..." His eyes darted to the side, where he could see Soleil standing amongst the grass in the distance. As she discarded her pauldron, she she rolled her arm around her shoulder. Her hand, in the meantime, gave her soreness a handful of rubs. "I don't know what I was... what got ahold of me..."

It terrified him to find Velouria's mouth easing closer to his body. When he tried to scramble away, he found his flank to be unbearably sore from the blow inflicted by Velouria's mighty hand. Such a powerful hit on top of nearly one hundred shuriken kisses left him almost immobilized, which gave Velouria ample time to angrily snag him with her teeth. She did not seize him to eat him, though; she simply grabbed his clothing and lifted his weak body. Though not as alarmed as he should have been, Siegbert still tried to escape her grasp. Every attempt left him fruitless.

Amused, but still unsettled, Soleil watched the two as the beast began to prowl away. She then cleared her throat.

"Hey! Where're you taking him?" she inquired hastily, considering to rush after them.

_"I'm taking him for a walk. If anyone asks, we'll be back later."_

Baffled, Soleil remained behind, watching as the two disappeared into the distance.

Siegbert remained uncomfortable the entire ride to the edge of the castle's grounds. It surprised him greatly to discover that was not where Velouria planned to stop. Instead of refurning him to the ground, Velouria continued, even when it meant leaving the protective walls of the castle and consummating with a humble trail. She divorced from that trail soon enough as well, for she favored the thicket of the neighboring forest more. She began to trudge effortlessly through branches, vines, and thorns. Her passenger, on the other hand, cringed at each switch that whacked him in the face and scratched his delicate skin.

The journey continued for a good while, that is until they reached a seemingly random plot of land. It did not look any different than the rest of the forest they had trekked through, but Velouria's actions begged otherwise. She there set him down at last. He was too confused to make any further movements from there. Instead of doing anything he normally would have done, such as running away, he looked up at her and her frightening face. Before he could say a word, though, her core began to glow. That glow grew brighter and brighter, bright enough to the point where he had to shield his eyes. When permitted to look again, he found Velouria as he knew her best: a small girl dressed in a hood, decorated by an apathetic face, droopy ears, creamy skin, and a quaint tail.

She did not give him even a glance as she made her way past him, for her eyes busied themselves by fixing on the ground.

"Come on. You look stressed, so let's go find you some treasure."

Siegbert, more confused than angry, followed her with his eyes before taking the trail physically.

"Why would I need treasure?"

"Didn't I just say? Because you're stressed." She stopped before a pinecone and worked up a smile. Quickly, she bent down and swiped it into her greedy hands. She presented it to him. "When Daddy's mad, all mom and I have to do is take him treasure hunting. He calms down once he finds something nice. Like his pinecone here. Isn't it great? It has just the perfect number of points on it, and oh! Look at how this one is chipped off! Wow! I'm sure it'd make a superb brush for your fur."

Siegbert, with a sigh, averted his gaze. When he felt her hand take his and beckon him downward, he plopped onto the ground and crossed his legs. She walked behind him afterward, preparing the cone over his hair, which had become nappy from the intensity of battle. When she began dragging it over his head, he closed his eyes.

"Velouria..." he muttered after hesitation. "I'm not a Wolfskin, so the therapies that work for your kind may not work for me."

"Oh really?" She drug the cone through a stubborn tuft. In doing so, she withdrew a quick yipe from her customer. "What works for you then? I don't think I've ever seen you upset enough to try hurting your friend. Why are you so mad?"

His head tilted back at the demands of the brush. The position gave him a good glimpse of the sky, so blue and clear. Not a single cloud mingled within such a deep pool of azure, which made it beautiful and worthy of lavishing. Not a single fiber in is body, however, would allow him enjoy it.

As far as he knew, that sky began to turn red.

"It's nothing worth the worry."

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say, for, afterward, the cone ripped across his hair roughly. He winced.

"So you know, Siegbert, I keep to myself a lot, so you can tell me whatever you want. Your secrets will always be safe with me." Her combing toned down as she spoke, for it climbed up to the topmost layer of his head. He had thick hair, which left a lot through which the cone had to work.

Siegbert did not seem like the type to trust easily, but there happened to be something about Velouria with which he felt he could confide. The way her careless tone heightened, albeit slightly, testified in favor of her sincerity. It set him at ease for the moment...

Just for the moment.

"What do you think of Nohrians?" he asked.

"What do I think of them?"

"Yes. Do you take of them as evil?"

"I don't. Are you mad because _you_ think they're evil?"

"Somewhat. I've been told of this history, this lineage, that I am proceeding; my grandfather, King Garon of Nohr, started this entire war for nothing but to quench his thirst for continental domination. I cannot stand myself anymore, for I have such intricate ties flowing within my inescapable veins. Intricate ties with that man, a monster." His eyes wandered around the woods. By itself, it put him at peace. "By fighting in this army alongside my father, by housing this Nohrian blood, by wearing this golden hair, am I practicing hypocrisy? Everything I do is for my country or related in some way, so everything I have done up until now has been for my grandfather. As I said, I cannot stand myself, for my actions condone my grandfather's doings."

Velouria paused her brushing to lift the hand that controlled his head. She brought it to her mouth, where she ran her slimy tongue over its core and fingers. Upon finishing, the same hand, now coated in a thick layer of saliva, ran through Siegbert's hair, trailed by the comb. If Siegbert had known what she did, he would have protested. He remained in the blissful realm of oblivion.

"It sounds like you just need some help getting things straight in your head. What's the real question you're asking here? What does it mean to be Nohrian?"

His eyes brightened. Hers was a profound question, once lingering on the tip of his tongue, now exposed in the immodesty of light.

"Yes..." he mused. "That is what it is I am wondering."

"I'm not sure how to answer that myself, but there's probably a way we can figure it out." She brought a few fingers behind her fuzzy ear to scratch. "Wanna try to find the answer together?"

He peeked over his shoulder to gaze upon her. She did not seem to be joking, but he certainly had not been convinced enough to embrace the idea.

"There is not a need to waste your time on my plights. They're flapdoodle. See it that way as I do."

"I don't think it's flap-whateveryoujustsaid. I think it's important if it makes you upset. You're a mild-mannered boy, so it takes a lot to get you worked up. Are you in or out?"

Though he knew he did not deserve it, Siegbert could not decline the offer.


	2. Inquiring Things Important

Velouria was a bit like a queen. Understandable, seeing that she stood not too far from such position. Her father, Keaton, held the position of alpha over a large Wolfskin pack in Nohr. Though raised in a Deeprealm and never introduced to her kindred, Velouria certainly behaved as her position would lead. Siegbert acknowledged the fact multiple times, occasionally acting upon it. His research arrived at one conclusion: the best way to express friendship or love to Velouria was by presenting a gift to her. His many sources around camp reported that they earned her friendship by simply giving her something she wanted.

However, finding what Velouria wanted posed as the challenge, for her tastes swung randomly.

Siegbert had confidence in his decision one day, however. While waltzing around a suspicious market one day, he happened upon a lovely string of pearls. It was not just a string of pearls, though: it was a string of pearls that presented a cloudless opal in its heart. Hailing from royal blood, Siegbert happened to be able to purchase it without hassle. The true hassle, however, was the anxiousness of bringing its intricate house, a box wrapped in velvet skin, to Velouria's tent. Velouria's tent rested beneath a distinct tree in the midst of camp, but that was not the reason why everyone knew Velouria's tent was Velouria's tent. Everyone knew Velouria's tent was Velouria's tent because it was the one surrounded by a heap of garbage. Correction: it was the one surrounded by a heap of "treasure."

This treasure gushed from the inside of the tent and spread a good ways across the outermost lawn. Even the stupidest knew that Velouria would not leave her mound unprotected, however. When she guarded not her hoard, a fence of logs protruding from the ground did. Using the niftiness of her beast form, she worked on that fence for weeks after being introduced to the ranks. She ventured into the woods to gather thick cylinders of lumber, which she planted in the ground after digging a designated hole. Her efforts did not go fruitless. The barrier stood about as tall as a man, and the crown of each totem had been sharpened, presumably by her dangerous claws. This place, this haven of hers, was where she found the most content, so she defended it viscously, even though there loomed no apparent threat. Nobody, with the exception of Keaton, planned to steal from her stash. Not even that suspicious girl that hid around camp.

Velouria growled at anyone who passed, Siegbert being an uncommon exception. When he came along, she greeted him contently, just not in the face. Said face maintained a familiar, mopey expression, but the sight of her wagging tail made him feel welcome. The oscillation swung only slightly, but to a noticeable degree nonetheless.

"Hello," he said while welcoming himself into her small yard. "How are you today?"

"The better question would be asking how are you today."

"I'm quite fine."

"Your face doesn't look it. Probably because you're still hung up over what we discussed last week." She once lounged in what little space had not claimed by trash. To meet him, she rose. Upon uniting with Siegbert, she took one of his wrists and led him into her dwelling insistently. Inside rested just enough room for them both to sit. Even then, though, Siegbert felt the need to compact himself, fearing he would brush against what he thought was the source of an awful stench. Velouria set herself in front of him before motioning her head in regards to her stash. "If it makes you feel better, I'll let you gander at my treasures. You just can't have anything in here; I keep my most valuable belongings in my tent. I _might_ consider letting you have something on the outside, though."

Though did not visit to snoop through her things, he had to confess to his curiosity. Inside the tent rested all she kept dearest to her. What Velouria valued spoke the most about her character...

And he had to say that he did not know how to define her character. When he began investigating, his expression morphed into many extremes: once it was disgust, then fascination, then confusion, then amusement. There were many things, things ranging from the bones of dead animals (or humans. He was not keen on anatomy), leaves of unique shape and color, the corpses of small creatures such as mice or lizards, sticks that seemed like ordinary sticks, a platter from the mess hall with a chip in its side, a fork bent out of its mold, the broken handle of a hand axe, pieces of crumbled paper, dented tea kettles, petrified wood, dead beetles of frightening size, and dried flowers with blackening petals.

One piece, however, happened to capture his interest more than anything, so he reached down to take it. An easy task, seeing that it sat just inches away from his body, concealed by nothing. It was a pinecone he found strikingly similar to the one Velouria picked up last week, but it possessed a few bunches of golden hair tangled within its needles. Puzzled, he held it higher.

"Um... Is this my...?"

"Careful with that one. It's one of my favorites."

"Truly? I find that strange because it looks like it has my hair in it."

"That's because it does have your fur in it, silly." She took it from him before bringing it up to her nose. As if it were a drug, she give it a mighty whiff. It proved to be one of the few things to invite a large smile onto her stoic face. "Ah. It smells just like you. Wanna try?" She offered it again, only to have it declined by a lifted hand.

"Erm... No thank you."

"Fine then, suit yourself." She proceeded to please herself with it again.

"By the way, while we're on the subject..." He seized the opportunity to then present his offering to the goddess, peeking up in hopes of approval. She eyed it with prejudice before abandoning her beloved pinecone. She adopted a new love.

"Oh, is this for me?" she inquired, vaguely delighted.

"Yes."

"Wow! Thank you! I love it very much!" As she did with the pinecone, she brought it to her face, but not to give it a good sniff. Instead, she roughly rubbed her cheek against its velvet surface. "It's really soft and feels great on my skin. I bet it'll be all the better once it ages and starts to wear a little bit. When it gets a bald spot, it'll be to _die_ for!"

Baffled, Siegbert stared at her, watching as she continued to run her cheek against the gift.

"Well... Um... What I meant to bestow upon you is _inside_ the box."

"This is a box?"

"Indeed. Simply ease it ajar..." His hands went over to pinch the top and follow his own instructions. Sure enough, a familiar, but lovely, string of pearls with an opal special feature awaited her. Each bead, deliciously shiny, could pose as mirrors, and they were cool to the touch.

Velouria was not amused.

"Oh. The gift is this thing?" She probed at it a few times before suspiciously picking it up. Before her face, she dangled it, observing intently. No amount of time seemed to change her opinion.

"Do you like it?"

"Mm..." Her eyes wandered lustfully back to the box. She carelessly tossed him the necklace and proceeded to caress it again. "I like this part better. You can keep that. Thank you." Her eyes, once so blissfully closed, opened excitedly all of a sudden, and they immediately went to the pinecone she had set on the top of her mound. She stole it, opened the box again, and set it inside. It pleased her greatly to see that it fit perfectly, for it even left enough room to allow her to close it shut. "Wow! Even better! Now my Siegbert-scented pinecone will never get crushed by something on accident." Her ears lifted slightly. "You're finally starting to get my tastes. I'm so glad now. I'm excited to see what other kinds of treasures you'll bring me in the future... But that's not what we're here to talk about. We're here for you." Shortly afterward, she set her prize in the midst of her hoard and began to crawl out of her tent, beckoning him to follow. "Let's get started on our session."

It puzzled Siegbert to name the time he shared with Velouria. Sure, she called it a "session", but he had not been completely sold on the title. Session for what? Session for answers? When he put it that way, he felt repelled at how pompous it made their situation sound. It was as if they were making the endeavor into some sort of grand journey, all in pursuit of the prize of a lifetime: the coveted answers to the mysteries of love, humanity, and existence.

The situation had not the direness in the grand scheme of things, for it just had them wandering around camp asking questions as if they worked for the census records.

First, Velouria had them stop at the sparring grounds, where he immediately realized that she lead him to Soleil, who busied herself with hacking away at a dummy. Velouria used the moment to turn to Siegbert, take notice of his puzzled expression, and nod toward the girl.

"Before we get started, you need to go apologize to her for last week." She commanded, evoking a sigh from her neighbor. He sucked his lips into his mouth, eyed away, and felt a blanket of red sweep across his cheeks. He did not oppose Velouria's commands. Instead, he hung his head and began to limp toward his soon-to-be-retainer.

Upon arriving at her side, Soleil paused her work and turned to look at him. For a moment, a maximum of five seconds presumably, the two exchanged stares. She had worked up quite the sweat, but still seemed to be filled to the brim with energy. Such was why, when time expired, she broke out her trademark smile.

"Hello there, Future Lord Siegbert," she greeted with a bow.

He failed to bring himself to muster even a smile.

"Hello," he replied, eyes wandering to the grass. A hand darted to the back of his head, where his fingers began to toil in the thickness of this golden locks. He blinked a time or two awkwardly before clearing his throat. "Em... I came to today to um... settle something..." He took a deep breath. "About last week..."

"Oh, that? You don't have to worry about it." She shook her head. "I should've listened to you when you said you weren't feeling well, so you could say I got what I deserved for being forceful. There's been a lot on your mind, hasn't there? I can tell by the look on your face; you're growing those ugly bags under your eyes and you've been frowning more than smiling. I can understand why, though. The battle in those caves was the first skirmish you've been in, wasn't it? The first battle's always the worst. I can tell you that from experience." He stopped once feeling her rough hand pat his shoulder. Still having injuries there (and everywhere for that matter), Siegbert flinched. Soleil apologetically retracted her hand. "That down look on your face doesn't suit you, Future King of Nohr. I don't know what it is you're going through, but I think you should try to chin up."

Her words made those same eyes, darkened with bags hanging beneath them, dull. Stiff shoulders dipped solemnly.

"Soleil... You're so forgiving. I don't deserve the friendship, nor the service, of someone like you."

"I already told you not to worry, didn't I? Apology accepted. Heck, I'm flattered you even approached me to bring it up to in the first place. I'd be too embarrassed to admit I did something wrong."

"No, I feel that I need to express myself with more than just words." The memory of the contents of his side pack invaded his mind to prompt a solution. Quickly, without hurting himself, he buried a hand down a flap. "Just a moment... Um... Here..." He withdrew the string of pearls, which he offered to her. "I don't know if this happens to humor your preferences, but... Accept this as an apology gift, please."

Soleil, upon gazing at the offering, blinked. With time, though, she eventually took it as he requested.

"Oh. Wow... Do you always keep precious jewelry on your person?"

"Of course not. It's a long story into which I'd prefer not to delve, but I believe it ultimately belongs with you."

"Well, thanks! This'll surely get a girl to like me now!"

That was a weight off of Siegbert's shoulders. He could not help himself from silently commemorating Velouria for having the insight, as it vastly improved his mood. The change occurred just in time, for just a while later, after abandoning Soleil to continue with her practicing, the two proceeded to dig into their long anticipated session of questioning. It was reasonable for them, particularly the less dominant of the pair, to feel the awkwardness that came with introducing the question to every face they encountered.

Their first subject would be the man that rode his armored horse, baring unruly gray hairs.

"Mister Silas," Siegbert announced in hopes of grabbing his attention. It was a successful endeavor, for just seconds later, Silas had his steed halt before him.

"How's it going, Prince Siegbert? Velouria?"

"I am well and have come to inquire something of you."

"Sure. Lay it on me."

"With your life experience thus far, how would you describe being Nohrian?"

The inquiry clearly stole Silas' balance, for his face morphed into a confused creature's. He stared down at the boy, then his neighbor, perhaps while he contemplated an answer.

"What's it like be Nohrian? Uh... Not to sound rude, but you're Nohrian too. Why do you need me to answer that?"

"He has his own opinion and wants yours," Velouria simplified. "He just likes to make things difficult."

With a flush, Silas laughed.

"Oh, I see. Hm... My opinion on being Nohrian... Well, if I weren't Nohrian, I would've never met Corrin when I was younger, which would mean I would've never joined the army. Most important of all, if I hadn't joined the army, I would've never met my darling wife and all the great friends I now have. So, I would have to say that being Nohrian has made my life wonderful."

Too bad Siegbert did not have a sheet of tree and charcoal with him, otherwise he would have furiously jotted Silas' words for future reference. He expressed his gratitude with the slight nod of his head before going his own way with his follower. Said follower's tail began wagging as she trotted up to his side.

"That was worthwhile. Maybe tomorrow we should ask my mom what she thinks of Nohrians. Since she grew up as a Hoshidan villager, her opinion should capture you interest," she mused thickly.

"Yes, that is a brilliant idea indeed, but why do you suggest asking tomorrow? Is she busy today?"

"No. She's not doing anything. I just think that's the most investigating we should do for now." She took him by the wrist again and suddenly began tugging. Alarmed, he loosely followed. "Let's go hunt for treasure."

Originally, it disappointed Siegbert to see that their daily sessions failed to seize Velouria's interest. She limited their questioning to one person per day (two if she happened to be feeling generous) before dragging him into the woods for a few solid hours. They would not emerge until dinner time. He thought she changed the subject the way she did because she had a selfish streak, which she did at times. His theories were anything but far-fetched.

As it turned out, though, that was not entirely the case.

"Velouria? Why aren't we asking more than one person every day? It isn't as though we are going to be running out anytime soon."

While trudging through a pile of leaves, Velouria suddenly leaped into the air and dove back into the ground head first. Her hands, small and delicate, hastily swiped at dirt. With a growl, she embarked on a chase around a tree until her hands landed on a particular plot of land. When she lifted her palms, both clasped together, she smiled with uncharacteristic delight. As he began to wonder what got her worked up, she rose and hastily made her way back to where he sat on the crunchy ground. Carefully, she brought her captive closer to him, and she steadily eased her fingers asunder.

To Siegbert's surprise, there peeked a small, and furry, face with elongated whiskers and two beady eyes. Its nose, perhaps even if it were tired, would not stop twitching, just as its eyes would not stop worriedly darting around. It could not squeeze through the small window Velouria's fingers gave it, so it quickly began struggling. Despite the creature's predicament, Siegbert chuckled and reach out with his finger, which he used to lightly pat its furry white head.

"Oh. What a cute thing." he commented, but that was before the rodent suddenly reared its mouth to his index and sunk its two sharp teeth into his skin. Hissing, Siegbert pulled back and observed his wound. Though it was a slight amount, he could not ignore the red that welled out and streamed down his finger.

His Nohrian blood.

The sight made him cringe, but not for long; Velouria quickly stole what attention the wound gathered.

"Uh oh, did he bite you?" Her face scrunched with a disgusting amount of offense before it turned back to the creature in her hands. "I won't let you get away with that, scoundrel. I felt sparing since Siegbert liked you, but now that I don't have any obligations, I must say you look awfully delicious..." Without a word more, and drawing a yipe from her audience, she shoved the creature into her mouth. Terrified, Siegbert watched her jaw wiggle before it sounded with a crunch and a satisfied mewl. A lump traveled down her throat until it disappeared into her chest. She released a sigh, closed her eyes in delight, and ran a bloody tongue over her chops. When she reopened her eyes, she met the bewildered expression that was Siegbert's face. Her droopy ears fluttered with concern. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude of me not to share. Do you want me to catch you another?"

"N-No, actually. What I'd like you to do is-"

"And your poor hand!" She lugged herself closer to him, snatched his wrist, and brought his finger closer for observation. For only a moment, her eyes followed the stream of blood. It sunk down the rest of his finger, flowed over the sole of his palm, then began to make its way to his forearm. Before it could get any further, the tip of her tongue caught the head and slithered up his arm. When she united with the pad of his index, she took his finger into her mouth. As red splashed across his face, he paused to allow her to suckle for the time being.

"Um..." he uttered awkwardly. When he tried to withdraw, her teeth took his finger captive and gave it a bite strong enough to keep it still. "Velouria... Please let go..." She did eventually, but later than he would have liked. Upon retraction, she looked at him with curious eyes. Siegbert avoided her gaze to glance at his finger. She had coated it with a thick case of her drool, he observed, which caused him to wince and immediately drag it over his trousers.

"Don't wipe it off!" Velouria scolded. "You'll heal faster if you keep it on there."

"Regardless, it's unsanitary and sickening," he replied quickly. His words were bred from impulse and disgust, so the moment they left his lips, he quickly wished them back into his mouth. Her face dropped hints of darkness, but she wiped it clean with neutrality.

"Hm. You humans must not lick each other's wounds. Not only are human squishy, you also adapt to strange customs." Another lick to the chops erased what red had gathered there beforehand. "And you have the _tastiest_ blood."

"Strange... customs?"

"Yeah. Why don't humans lick each other's wounds?"

"I already told you: it is unsanitary and sickening."

"Us Wolfskin think otherwise. Did you know a cut heals three times as quickly if it has mouth-juice on it? Daddy told me that his mom saved his daddy's leg by licking it when it got caught in a hunter's trap. It's what mates do."

An awkward pause erupted between them, especially in the boy. The crimson on his face grew deeper, perhaps because his heartbeat intensified. Seldom had Siegbert been the one to jump to conclusions, which is exactly why he blinked a few times before clearing his constricting throat.

"Ehm... Mates?"

She flushed as well. What a rare sight. For one who always seemed apathetic, she certainly seemed to be getting worked up. He wondered if it was because of what he thought it was because... No, it was not.

"And friends. Friends do it too. Wolfskin do it to everyone in the pack. Friends, family..." She rose and hopped elsewhere, where she started to scavenger on the ground. "Come on, let's find something nice before we have to head back for dinner. I'll let you have whatever we find. Oh! Except for this pine needle. This is a very nice pine needle."

Siegbert did not bother bringing the subject back up to her.


	3. Comprehending Things Incomprehensible

The following morning, after a night full of ghostly nightmares, Siegbert found himself sitting at the edge the lake with the majority of the army. A conformist, he did what everyone else did: splash his face with water. The coolness of the air made the water chilly, which drove him closer to being completely awake. He saw this as a favor.

When his palms slid off his face, he stared down into the water. It still rippled from where he had dunked his hand, but it gradually began to still. When it did, he caught a decent look of his face. The bags under his eyes remained burdensome, as did the big bandage spread across one of his cheeks.

That was not what suddenly caught his attention. What caught his attention was what sat underneath the water's reflection: a small, spotless pebble, that basked in loneliness. For a reason unknown, he felt his hand reach into the shallow depths to retrieve such a worthless prize. He held it between a thumb and a bandaged index to give it an intense session of scrutiny.

Velouria's interests were weird, for it deviated far from those of he and fellow humans. It seemed that she and her father fawned over the most mundane of objects; what held no worth in the eyes of a human was the prize of a lifetime in the eyes of a Wolfskin. When it came to his offerings, which had been humanly treasures thus far, Siegbert wondered if his luck would better if he intentionally brought something no human would like. The results, good or bad, would take him one step closer to understanding Wolfskin, or, even better, Velouria herself.

He kept the pebble.

Siegbert found himself before the entrance of the goddess' shrine, clutching his offering effortlessly. He found it odd to see that Velouria had not risen to receive him. After all, she awaited to greet any visitor that dared to draw near her tent, regardless of their intentions. Cautiously, he peeked beyond the fence of lumber and quietly permitted himself admission. He continued to find not a single girl. In reality, the girl he sought busied herself with being buried in the heap of garbage that rested within her tent: her sacred pile, she once dubbed it. Upon arrival, he squatted down to peek into its entrance, where she lazed like a sloth. From her lips escaped an occasional moan.

"Hello? Velouria?"

He witnessed one of her eyes slide open. The iris boggled aimlessly before stilling, and it lazily set itself upon his puzzled expression. Now, he figured, would be the time she responded. Instead, an orb of garnet rolled into her head until he saw nothing but the white of her eye.

"Mmm..."

"Good morning. If you are, I am ready for our session today."

"Why do we have to do it today...?" she mewled. Her voice hinted at misery, but Siegbert, lost in his own business, failed to notice.

"We've been doing it everyday, haven't we? It'd be nearly impossible for you to forget."

"Yeah... But I don't feel like doing it today..." She tried to shift her position, but she only succeeded slightly. With another groan, her arms wrapped themselves around her belly, and her tail negligently tucked itself between her legs.

"Truly? Why not?"

"What does it look like to you? I'm not feeling well..." She hugged herself tighter. "That stupid mouse I ate yesterday must've been diseased... Urgh..."

Siegbert quieted with a flush creeping across his face. Of course, now he recognized the signs. Her expression, turning a pale shade of green, drenched itself in clammy sweat, and her form curled in attempt to soothe a temperamental stomach. Her breathing, now pants, made her back rhythmically rise and fall. He fought the urge to bring a hand up to whack his face or, if he were angry enough, flick one of his many shuriken bites.

"Heavens, I apologize for being so insensitive. Had I taken the time to observe you closer, I would have seen that you are ill..." With his face heavy, he eased closer. "I am sorry to see that, Velouria. Perhaps a gift ought to make you feel better?"

Through her misery, a smile tugged at either side of her lips.

"A present? Now that you're starting to understand my tastes, I'm excited to see what you brought. Gimme..." Her voice was not as forceful as her words may have lead him to believe, so he graciously took his time in bringing a hand over to her. There, when her palm spread underneath his in anticipation, he simply dropped his offering. The moment it became hers, she excitedly gazed upon it.

But she did not stay excited for long.

"What? This is just a rock..."

"Quite so. Do you like it?"

"Why would I be happy over a rock...?"

"I thought Wolfskin favor the things opposite of what man would favor. Because neither my neighbor nor myself would be ecstatic over a pebble, I figured you would take a liking to it." He winced. "Have I been mistaken to infer such?"

Her garnet eyes lazily continued to stare are the pebble in her hand. She rolled it around a few times in between her fingers. Once she let it escape, but her fingers quickly recaptured it. Those same eyes narrowed.

"The thought's nice, but this leaves a lot to be desired. It would be better if it were smoother, and there it'd be even better if it had a few nicks on the side. For it to be perfect, it must meet all that criteria and be a smidgen browner. No, maybe a bit tanner. On second thought, a bit more black would be nice too..." She had not noticed how, as she continued to speak, her visitor hung his head. The moment she finished talking, that same head began to steadily shake.

"I've so much more to learn, have I not? I'm sorry. I will try to bring something better tomorrow." He brought himself to his feet once crawling all the way out of the tent, where he stretched and sighed. "Until then, I shall take today's session alone. I've hopes that you get better. Should our paths intersect, I shall remember to send Midori. Fair?"

Delayed, Velouria, remaining within the darkness of her tent, nodded.

"Fair."

"Very well. So long." And he was gone, disappearing beyond the fence.

Unbeknownst to Siegbert, the moment he exited ear and eyeshot, Velouria compacted her form tightly. Though she continued to pitifully gasp for air, she could not prevent a wide smile from spreading across her lips. Her gaze became plush suddenly, especially as she rolled into her side and brought the pebble closer to her face. After rubbing it against the tip of her nose, she released a soft howl.

"Ooh! What a beautiful, _beautiful_ rock! Nobody must see or even know of your existence, or else everyone will be out to steal you from me..." She fell asleep, clinging to it in her hand.

Siegbert continued on through the yard of the castle.

It may have been for the better that Velouria did not join him; today, he had the freedom to ask however many people he pleased. For some strange reason, he felt empty, naked even, without the presence of a small wolfgirl. He returned to being alone as he had been in the Deeprealms, which made him uncomfortable. Gudrun came to mind a few times, but the last he checked, he remained in poor condition, surely not in the shape to be carrying or walking alongside his master. Just like himself, Gudrun needed his rest.

He ultimately settled with dealing with the loneliness. It would not stay for long, to his fortune.

The first person he approached was Jakob, who rushed past him with a basket of laundry. He seemed rather down to business, but retrospect injected that Jakob almost _always_ looked like he was down to business. Figuring his mood was neutral, Siegbert trotted up to his side.

"Good morrow," he greeted softly, not even receiving a glance from his neighbor.

"I beg your pardon, but I am busy."

"I can see that, and I apologize if this inconveniences you. I must ask a brief question. From your life ex-"

"Please, young prince, make it snappy. I vowed to Lord Corrin to see these clothes washed and cleaned by midday, and I do not aspire to fall short of my word."

Eyes widening, Siegbert nodded.

"Very well. With your life experience thus far, how would you describe being Nohrian?"

Jakob scoffed and quickened his pace.

"You children, toying with the toils of a working man. That is a preposterous inquiry, boy. I ought to report you to your father if it means he will teach you not to bother me with such wasteful questions. What you need is a good spanking."

"Y-Your utmost pardon, sir. I'm simply gathering opinions."

"Hmph. I figured you would know my ambitions well by now. I love being Nohrian. If I were not Nohrian, I would not be Lord Corrin's butler. My experiences of being Nohrian, thus far, have been nothing short of delightful. Though it was my Nohrian parents that abandoned me in my younger days, it was also Nohrian royals that took me and gifted me with the life I now lead. Our country is great with many great people, regardless of the testaments of Hoshidans. If you'll excuse me, now, I need to hurry." He trotted off further along the pavement.

Jakob came off as rather patriotic to Siegbert, which made more sense as he lingered. He served the third eldest of the royal Nohrian siblings. It only made sense that he would say he loved his country. Siegbert needed to choose someone less biased, which eliminated those with direct ties to the monarchy.

His next stop brought him before Benny, who stood still in the midst of the training ground. Initially, Siegbert grew curious to find him standing so stiffly, which drew him closer. Upon arriving by his side, Siegbert gazed worriedly into his eyes. Benny gazed back.

"Hello," Siegbert said first. Benny's eyes darted forward before fixing themselves upon him again.

"Hi. You might want to move for a minute." With one of his frighteningly powerful hands, he nudged Siegbert away. It was for good reason; just seconds later, the thundering of hooves could be heard. Before Siegbert could wonder who came, or why Benny was insistent on pushing him, he saw the brown form of Avel swoop past them. His rider, Sophie, jammed the tip of a lance against the metal covering Benny's stomach, but no matter the force she exerted, Benny did not budge. As Avel continued on once she dropped the lance, most likely to circle around and make a second attempt, Benny lifted his head. "You're still not hitting hard enough!"

"Okay! I'll try it again! Come on, Avel, let's go thi- no! Avel! Stop! No! You're going the wrong way! Gah! No, Avel, no!" Sophie and Avel galloped away, far from where their eyes could follow. Siegbert stole the time to turn back to the man standing at his side.

"Ahem. Um... Mister Benny, if my sources are correct, you were a solider for the Nohrian army before being recruited into this division. Am I mistaken?"

"Yep. I was a border guard alongside your mother."

"I see. If you joined by your own will, then that must mean you have a desire to defend our country. If that is so, I want to ask you what it is about Nohr that caused you to wish to rise to protect her."

He watched as Benny relaxed and let his palm stroke his golden goatee. In the meantime, his eyes wandered to the sky as he contemplated what Siegbert assumed to be his answer.

"Well... I guess you could say I joined the army because of my mother and the rest of my family. Mother told me that when she was young, her father died protecting she and her mother from invaders. When I was young, the same thing happened to my own father. So, to give my mother peace of mind, I went to join the ranks. I could then help keep the invaders out for good."

Siegbert paused before the man, blinking a time or two in the silence. It was a while until he worked up the courage to clear his throat.

"Heavens... Yours is a noble mission, Mister Benny... Thank you for your service."

"Part of being in a country is considering everyone within it as your brothers and sisters. We may disagree on some things, but we're all family by the end of the day. I don't think it's too much of a chore to stand as a wall between my family and those that want to harm them."

Nohrians...

They were a family?

Never had Siegbert thought a group as family... with the exception of family itself. In order to get to the bottom of this mystery, he knew that he would have to consult the biggest family person he knew. These considerations led Siegbert to the mess hall, where he found a woman sitting at a table sipping at a cup of tea. She was a lovely woman, he was not shy to admit; she possessed a body arguably more voluptuous than the likes of his mother, which spoke volumes. Her hair, lightly violet, waterfalled down her back weightlessly, even though it seemed thick upon further inspection. Thick lips that moved slowly as she spoke formed words, and her every movement swayed in harmonious rhythm with the rest of her body. Her eyes, sharp as daggers, yet plusher than cotton, caught him approaching her. Almost immediately, she rose and took him into the biggest bear hug she could give. She nearly squeezed that life out of him, but that was not the most painful part. What made the experience painful were the countless wounds spread across his body. She gave those injuries little to no regard.

"Aw, if it isn't my sweet Siegbert," she cooed. "Come to see your Aunt Camilla?"

By now, he hinted at trying to break free, but she permitted him no success. When he could not prevail in getting his message across, he caved and at last moved his efforts to the verbal realm.

"Hello, Aunt Camilla. Please release me."

"Oh, but I never got to hold you long, my sweet nephew. I only once saw you once as a newborn before you were tossed in that wretched hole they call the Deeprealms. What I'd give to again see my runty kin swaddled in his royal garments of violet and gold. I'd hold you and never let you go until you've outgrown my strength!" She allowed him departure from her arms, albeit with slight reluctance. "Alas, you're almost a full grown man. Look at you with your prickly chin..." She ran a gentle thumb over the site at which she marveled. "You'll look just like your forefathers in no time."

"Erm... It pleases me to know I am cared for by you, Aunt Camilla, but I have come here under the need to exchange business."

Though it was slight, Camilla's face shifted to mark surprise, so she quickly situated herself to listen.

"Please then, go on. I will help however I can."

"As the High Princess of Nohr, how do you look upon your subjects such as fellow soldiers and citizens?"

He watched her cross her arms thickly as she trailed a finger along the contours of her jaw and chin. She did those sorts of things when she thought deeply.

"It is difficult to feel the same way about everyone within our great country, sweet nephew; Nohr is a vast land that stretches for miles upon miles and houses thousands. In general, I would like to say that I wish to love and view them all fairly, but I cannot say that until I've met each and every one of them. That would surely be an impossible endeavor." She smiled slightly when she looked back down at him. "But, as you asked, fellow soldiers are a different story, as they are much more immediate. It is my responsibility as a position in line to the throne to care for our people, even if it means risking my life. Dying for my people would be a difficult task, and I admit with shame that I can see myself hesitating in the heat of battle. You, on the other hand..." Siegbert grunted when she sucked him into her embrace again, but, to his fortune, it was an embrace far more considerate of his wounds. "My blood family I would not hesitate to shield with my life. This includes you and your cousins and your aunt and your uncles... Mmm, my darling Siegbert, with his constitution smelted from iron... I would bathe the land in blood for you."

He grew still, having accepted that resisting did him little. In doing so, he exchanged his physical effort to mental effort, for his brows furrowed hesitantly as he gazed off into the mess hall. It housed not a soul besides their own, as far as he could tell, but it was nice nonetheless; platters were neatly tucked before chairs, patiently awaiting lunch. The golden glow of torches gave the room a comforting air that tended to his stiffening muscles.

"So you love your people out of obligation, but love your family out of devotion?"

"Obligation? I may have sounded that way, but that is no such thing. My dear retainers, Selena and Beruka, aren't family, but I would kill just as much for them as I would my kin. The same would apply for any to whom I've grown close." She ran a hand through his sweet blond hair with a sigh. "And we can grow close to just about anyone given enough time, can't we? When I fight, I remember for what I am fighting: the people of my country. Though I have never met them, I know they all have lives and loves of their own. Should I ever get to know them, I am confident I would love them as well. We're a poor and troubled race, Siegbert, but that gives us all the more reason to support one another." At long last, she released him once more. "Is that the answer you were seeking?"

Collecting himself, Siegbert eyed the ceiling thoughtfully.

"If it is your honest opinion, then yes."

"Said just like your father. You're his splitting image."

Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear. Never had Siegbert been one to bow to the absurdities of superstition, but he had to admit that the situation served as a sort of wake up call. In the very least, if it was not that, it was a slight tap on the shoulder or a nudge in a different direction. As soon as Camilla sighed her most recent string of words, the doors to the mess hall swung open to grant entrance to a tall, frightfully powerful, man. He bore golden locks of royalty. He looked with eyes that passionately sought what was just in his perception. His throat restrained bellows that demanded respect.

No, Xander seldom bellowed, and now was never such a time.

He looked upon the two of them with bewilderment before promptly relaxing his gaze. His powerful form easily made its way to them.

"Good morrow," he greeted softly. His hard gaze landed upon his underling, who unsteadily set his own eyes to the ground and lowered his head. "Siegbert, it has been a few days since I last saw you, has it not? Rumor tattles that you have been quenching that time with the wolfgirl."

Siegbert had to chain his own neck in order to yank it upward to the face of his father. He began huffing.

"I... have, father," he retorted weakly.

"Superb. I am glad to see you've made friends with a fellow soldier."

"Y-Yes..." Siegbert, in an impulsive move, hastily kicked his feet into motion. He wove his way through the labyrinth of tables, his back arched, his head hung. "Excuse me." Shortly after passing his superior, he departed from the hall, leaving brother and sister in his wake.

Amused, Camilla, standing at Xander's side, crossed her arms and leaned toward him. All in the meantime, she sounded with a steady, amateurishly harmonious, series of clicks.

"My, my, Xander..." she seared. "What outlandish behavior for your boy to exhibit. You have work rolling your way."

Xander's expression became stale as his eyes remained on the door that granted his son escape, but he gradually sank into a confusing mixture. Not a soul could distinguish the anger nor imprisonment. Though he seemed lost in another world, his lips did not fail to ease open.

"Perhaps so."

Having shamefully evaporated from his father's presence, Siegbert continued with his search, albeit in a duller mood. He trudged through the yard, full of people all doing their own mundane activities. Yet, he felt an ominous weight of loneliness looming over his shoulders. The force caused his muscles to stiffen and hasten his pace to his next destination: a return to the training field.

Laslow and Keaton sparred there, scorched by the heat of an intense match. Of course, it was an easy game to spectate, for making an accurate conjecture as to who would emerge victor was child's play. Keaton would obviously win, as he, in his beast form, effortlessly withstood each stroke of Laslow's blade. It did not even seem to leave a scratch against the thick hull constituting his skin. Nonetheless, Laslow seemed unhindered by anger or frustration. He continued at the creature with huffs and puffs, dodging just in time for a gentle swipe of Keaton's counters.

Siegbert did not find his intruding as rude, hence why he cautiously made his way over to him with a clearing of the throat. Keaton noticed him first. Therefore, he received him first. His ears perked as he moved to face his body. In the meantime, Laslow continued to wail on his body, the only difference being that he attacked Keaton's arm instead of the tautness of his belly.

 _"Oh. Hey, kid. Can't remember your name, but you're the one Velouria's been all buddy-buddy with, right? Thanks for keeping her off me lately. If you know her, you'll know she's usually in my fur all the time. For the past few weeks I've found a while to myself, so it's been nice. It's a little strange that she was kinda distant before she started hanging out with you, though..."_ With his ginormous hand, he reached out toward Siegbert. Spooked initially, he considered backing away, but his fear would be put to rest when he found that Keaton was simply patting him on the head. _"Whatever. You're a pretty good kid, human."_

"Well..." Siegbert started softly as he began smoothing the hair that had gotten ruffled from the paw. "Your compliments flatter me, Mister Keaton. I've come here to ask you a question if you're not terribly busy."

 _"Sure. Fire away."_ He gave the crook of his ear a quick scratch.

"Thank you. Throughout your experiences as a Wolfskin and a Nohrian, how woul-"

Keaton suddenly released a whimper, for Laslow's sword happened to strike a soft patch of skin on his forearm. Shaking his head to bare with the irritation, the beast brought the site of the wound within the view of his glowing red eyes, bore his fangs, and sounded with a steady growl.

"Ah, it's a satisfying moment to finally land a hit," Laslow breathed after flipping the hilt of his sword along his hand and catching it with style. As if he had saved a princess from a thundering serpent, he ran his hand through his silver locks and flipped his bangs to the side. While he lavished his victory, Keaton's throat released a steady growl.

 _"That hurt!"_ he exclaimed. Before Siegbert could even blink in response to such an action, Keaton's paw swung at his opponent and knocked him to the ground. _"If you get to hurt me, I get to hurt you too!"_ Laslow landed with a grunt and remained still for a decent amount of time. When he did finally have the muscles in his stomach pull himself up, he placed a hand on his cheek to cover what little blood spilled from a cut.

Nohrian blood.

"Good heavens! If you must retaliate, at least retaliate a bit gentler," the man groaned as he tried to ground himself upon his feet. "I'd best make my way to the medical tent to get this patched up."

Though the sight should have set Siegbert to a state of unease. How odd that it did not. As a matter of fact, he simply chose to clear his throat and allow his eyes to dart back and forth between the the two.

"Why have him treat it there when you can treat it here, Mister Keaton?" he inquired of the beast, who looked down at him as he spoke. A chuckle roused from a prison of razor sharp teeth stained by years of wear and poor maintenance.

_"Who, me? I can't do much to treat a wound. You're probably thinking of Kaze's daughter. I honestly can't see how you'd get us mixed up, but I guess everyone has their moments."_

"No, of what I speak is your Wolfskin customs. Since he is an ally, why do you not simply clean Mister Laslow's wounds yourself? Not only would it be efficient to do it now, it would also give him the resources necessary to heal faster."

A silence roused between the two as they embarked on a stare down. Laslow, utterly confused, chose to remain a distance from the conversation, even when he happened to be the star. The most focus would be on Keaton and the way he remained perfectly still. The form of a Wolfskin liked to hunch, hands dragging on the ground. Keaton, however, kept his palms close to his face as if trying to retain a laugh.

_"Who told you that?"_

"Your daughter, frankly."

_"She said Wolfskin do that to their friends and allies?"_

Siegbert blushed profusely before long, for the conversation, filled to the brim with awkward pauses, drug on far too long. Something went on... Something of which he had no awareness, and Siegbert could not stand being unaware. For the sake of his peace of mind, he had to discover what he missed.

"Y-Yes, she did..." he replied hesitantly. "Why? Is there... um... something I...?"

 _"Velouria lied to you. Don't listen to her."_ Keaton replied nonchalantly. _"Wolfskin only lick their mate's wounds and nobody else's. Of course, if you're not mates, licking a wound can be a sort of... Uh... How do you humans put it? Confession? Proposal? Yeah. Something like that. Now that that's all said and done, see why I won't lick on this dude here? That'd be weird."_

Laslow chuckled.

"My, for such savage creatures, that is quite the romantic custom. I might try that on the ladies sometime..."

 _"Us Wolfskin are very complicated creatures, thank you. We have many more customs you humans would never comprehend."_ Keaton boasted. In doing so, his glowing eyes returned to his visitor. _"Sorry. It looks like we got a little off track. So what was the question you were going to ask me? Huh? Helloooo? Still there kid?"_

Keaton had every right to be confused, for Siegbert suddenly fell victim to a case of silence for which he failed to find a cure. His eyes widened as they sunk to the ground, where he stared at the grass.

That was an interesting patch of grass. It was a dark shade of green and had blades that were thick at the bottom, but as it traveled upward, it grew thinner to make a sharp tip at its end. The stem was in the exact center. Veins could barely be seen through the translucency of its skin.

He wondered if Velouria would like it.

He felt his heart flood with warmth where it once became stagnant and cold. His competent hands suddenly quivered with incompetence.

"Hmm... The boy's only a teenager and he's already spacing out. This isn't a good sign." Laslow observed.

"I..."

"Oh, perhaps he heard you?"

"I... Mister Keaton..." his gaze traveled up to the frightening face of a carnivorous beast. His lips were not long enough to hide his vicious teeth, not even when he stood neutrally. His glowing eyes could penetrate any form of darkness. His nose could seek his every victim, no matter how they hid. What a truly frightening creature the Wolfskin was, Siegbert suddenly realized. He wondered if he would ever find such a frightening beast turn against him. "I'm sorry, but something has come up. Perhaps another time I can ask you my question."

_"Looks pretty pressing, so I won't be mad. In fact, I honestly don't care at all."_

"Swell. Um... I beg your pardon, but I must immediately take my leave." Before he could receive their permission, he fled from their presence as he had with his father, except this time he sprinted as if Keaton had turned against him. His feet took him through town, though he had no idea where he headed. It was as if, for a fleeting moment, he hoped his feet would grow a brain and make decisions for him. Just this once. Just this once, he needed to be without any responsibility, guilt, shame, or restlessness. He needed time to think. A crutch upon which he could lean.

He bought time by returning to his tent in the midst of camp, inside of which he sat himself and took cautious breaths. He remained that way for a short time... When, in all actuality, he stayed that way until the afternoon graced itself upon the sky.

Only then did he dare to unravel the bandages that snaked around his index finger, revealing the remains of a minute wound. There, the mouse had bit him, where it only left a small nip in his skin. No longer did the site bring him pain, and yet he could feel his every heartbeat cause that finger to throb. The longer he looked at it, the dryer his throat became, the more his body shook, and the more his forehead poured sweat.

Velouria licked that wound.

He quivered.

What was he to think? When he asked himself, he drew close to the edge of a cliff that emptied into a menacing pit guarded by precipices. What was to happen should he take the plunge? He was almost too afraid to find out. He could not take the risk. Not now. Not while dreadfully unstable.

But then again...

His youthful curiosity, so exuberant, so wild and eager, awakened. He could not help but feel the urge no matter how insistently his fearful conscience warned against it.

This led him to a new set of questions for which he was to embark upon a quest to find answers. He was to find them alone.

He departed from his humble dwelling. His feet did not take him far. He was to journey to the person he knew would advise best: his kindred. His most trusted.

His mission led him to the dwelling of his mother and father, where he found only the former. Her slumber deadened her awareness, which hindered her from rousing immediately when he drew near. For a while, with his dull and serious eyes, Siegbert watched, waiting for her to greet him with the smile with which she always greeted him. Never would he receive such a thing until a while later. Only then did her blue eyes flutter open with a steady mewl.

"Hmm... I thought I felt someone sitting beside me," she sighed. "I figured that if it wasn't your father, it would be you. If I happened to be wrong about that... Well, I don't keep this axe next to the bed for decoration."

He tried to laugh at the thought.

"Thank you for not sending it upon me." He modestly buried his hands into his lap. "I've... come to ask a question of you, mother."

"I've heard you've been doing that to a lot of people. Come to ask me the same thing?"

"No. I've come with something exclusively for you... and I hope it remains that way."

"Well, I can't guarantee I can keep it from your father."

"Yes, I expected such. In the very least, I ask that it be kept private from everyone else besides him."

Charlotte began pulling herself to sit. Once upward, she gave way to a hefty moan and stretched. The smile he coveted at last fell onto him once she finished.

"I can do that. Now, what's troubling my boy?"

His head dropped, and his heart's pace quickened.

Such an embarrassing question, he always thought...

"I have a wonder, mother... What exactly is love?"

And he struggled with himself ever since. No, he did far more than simply struggling... Struggling seemed more like a gentle breeze compared to his current hurricane. Siegbert wrestled with himself each and every day. Though he walked at Velouria's side for hours on end, whether it be through the fields before the castle or the thickness of bramble, he felt distant from her. Again, he felt lonely, moseying down a twisted path of gray and black. He wondered if he could turn around and find his way back to the fork in the road.

He had a difficult time, as he felt more like he wandered than backtracked.

But one day he found the trail that would lead him home: a place of glorious sunshine, its warmth all his to soak. How wonderful such a feeling was. How delightful. How precious. He kept it and held it close to his bosom, where it could not escape from his possessive grasp. He wanted that feeling, that light that lit his path, to follow him for the rest of his days.

Once again, Velouria only admitted one person for the day of their session before promptly dragging him into the forest neighboring the walls of the castle. During such a day in particular, the things upon which they stumbled came across Siegbert's interest like a whetstone. They came across a pond, into which Velouria immediately pounced so she could spend a good while splashing around in pursuit of a fish. To her disappointment, she never caught anything besides a mossy stone she found at the bottom of the pond. Said stone would find itself buried in the depths of one of her satchels. Siegbert, a reserved soul, simply watched the entire event from the sidelines. His eyes revealed that he dabbled in thought in doing so.

He yet wrestled, but the Lady of Opportunity, as if she had tuned an ear to his every miserable plight, graced herself upon his situation.

Opportunity showed herself to him, and he simply had to have the nerve to oblige her offerings.

Velouria, once they continued onward in their exploration, happened to catch eye of something she really, _really_ wanted: a rambunctious brown creature with a puffy tail that effortlessly scampered up a tree upon sensing their approach. When Siegbert turned to see Velouria's reaction, her pupils had shrunk to the size of a simple dot, armed with intent. He stepped aside, for he knew it was only a matter of time before she would hunker down and tear her way after the critter. He had not made a mistake, for she immediately dashed toward the tree and scurried up its trunk as well. Granted, she moved at a much slower pace, but she did not seem to be discouraged.

Siegbert found it impressive to watch how nimbly she worked her body into the jumble of branches which was the crown, but he had to admit that he grew more worried the more she climbed. Her instincts, so animalistic and narrow, seemed to chop her awareness into a mere sliver, for she gave no regard to how the branches began to threaten to give way beneath her weight. She had become far too fixed on that squirrel to even bother paying mind to her position. Or was she confident that she would not fall?

Perhaps it never mattered what she thought; with a sharp crack, and a gasp from the ground, a branch collapsed beneath her body, which had her plummet onto a second branch. Unfortunately, that arm was not strong enough to hold her either, even when she managed to catch herself by burying her nails into its bark. It too broke, and, with no other friends to break her fall, Velouria hit the leafy ground before Siegbert could catch her. Nonetheless, Siegbert dashed to her side, slid onto his knees, and instantly peered into her face. With her eyes shut tight, she grimaced and sounded with a handful of moans.

"Heavens, you should be more careful when climbing a tree," he whispered as he helped her sit. As she shook her head to regain her steady, rubbed her head a bit, and slouched in defeat, she continued with her grunts. In frustration, she flipped her hood off her head so she could fold her ears into an irritated position.

"Mm. Wolves weren't made for climbing... Those stupid mice with the fuzzy tails. They're always taunting me with how fast they can get away when I chase them..." At that moment, however, she looked down at her hands. Along her underarms, wrist and all, a lengthy patch of skin that had been ripped away by the rashness of tree bark. Only a red mess had been left. When she observed it, Velouria released a sigh. "Aw man..."

She seemed to react subtly when Siegbert took her wrist with his own hands, even if it meant getting his hands dirty. His eyes, so hard and dark, gradually softened until his irises blended into a mixture of feathers and syrup. When the moment passed, he breathed a little, then lifted his head to try to smile at her slightly.

"It looks not like anything worth the fret," he soothed. "Are you hurting badly?"

Velouria blinked.

"No, not much," she answered slowly. Afterward, she brought one of her bleeding arms to her mouth and began to work on cleaning it. "I've had worse happen to me out in the battlefield, so I'm not going to complain."

There she was: opportunity.

Hello, opportunity.

Siegbert grew anxious suddenly, far more anxious than he had been for the past few days. He did not know if his decisions would be the right ones, but if he spent too much time hesitating in fear, opportunity would pack her things and leave him as fruitless as he began.

He had to decide.

Now.

Would he?

Wouldn't he?

The rest of his life hinged on one single, seemingly worthless, moment.

He decided.

He decided that, as a future king, he would adapt to the ways of his people.

By adapting to the ways of his people, he would voice words no mouth could possibly do justice.

He maintained his grip on her wrist, though it was somewhat flimsy. While busy working on her other arm, she almost failed to notice how his hands began to quiver. How his hands tightened a smidgen. How his hands slowly brought her arm to his own mouth so he could run a tongue over her wound, just as she had done herself. At that moment, Velouria's eyes widened. Had Siegbert not been so captivated by this new sensation, this new, foreign, repulsive act, he would have seen her reaction and tried to decipher it.

But he could not pull himself from this trance.

Crimson... Such an odd taste. He could feel the iron assault every fiber within his insides and leave them feeling tickled. The taste... It was interesting. It was not bad, but it was not good either. It reminded him of pork, but the moment kept him from realizing the awkwardness of such a thought. Wolfskin taste like pork? Had he not been so captivated by this new sensation, this new, foreign, repulsive act, he would have laughed! Ha!

But neither of them were laughing.

As a matter of fact, Velouria turned red... and her face morphed with horror. Her eyes widened as the act continued, but paralysis seemed to take her body captive. Fighting had her able to gain control of herself again, and she used what strength had not been sapped from her to try withdrawing her arm. Siegbert, however, insistently clung to her until he finished cleaning. It took long, or at least it seemed to take long.

His head lifted slowly upon completing his task, cheeks rosy. Against the mannerisms instilled in his virtuous mind and soul, he drug the brim of his mouth, bloodied, across the sleeve of his tunic. Shyness caused him to delay the act of looking upon Velouria's expression. He wondered what he would find there. Part of him had vigor, another had terror. Nonetheless, despite his fears, he peered upon her face, curiosity in his eyes.

What he found nothing he expected.

Of course Velouria seemed flustered, but such was the very least of what seemed to be her worries. Her eyes were wide. Not in surprise, but in concern. Not being savvy when it came to reading faces, Siegbert fail to recognize such. He figured she simply gazed with confusion. He felt the need to explain himself to avoid unwanted mishaps.

"V-Velouria, I... I wanted to remind you that I want to understand those over whom I will rule, much including the members of your kind. In doing this, I wondered if you understood my impli-"

"Why on earth did you do that?" Velouria suddenly exclaimed. Her ears fluttered as she threw herself on him in an instant, took his skull in her hands, and gripped him tightly. She held him perfectly still. When he saw the way her eyes darted around his face, he then realized how awfully worried she truly became. In turn, he too became worried.

"Wh-What's wrong? Had I been mistaken to make such an action?"

"Of course you were! Don't you know what happens when a human licks the blood of a Wolfskin?"

Those kinds of questions could never be good.

"Nothing terribly worthy of attention comes to mind..." Siegbert's eyes widened. "Oh dear. Have I insulted you on accident?"

"No! Humans get sick! Wolfskin blood is poisonous to humans!"

"P-Poison...?" Now that she mentioned it, he did have to admit that things did suddenly seem a bit surreal. Having Velouria pounce on him the way she did was different, so it may have distracted him from realizing that his head began to spin ever so slowly. As a matter of fact, it soon began to swirl out of control. "Poison... My, isn't that a queer piece of vocabulary. Hm... Who decided upon such a name, I wonder." The trees above his head began shaking. Their branches- their fingers- reached toward him. They wanted to grab him. Though his skin crawled, he had no will to move out of the way. Instead, he allowed himself fall onto his back and sink further into the pit that opened beneath him. It began to consume his entire body. Was it possible that the trees were reaching toward him to pull him to safety? He would never know, nor did he care. "Hm... I can... Feel it already grasping my conscience." He tried with all his might to cling to reality as it quickly dissipated from his grasp. "Poison... Wolfskin blood... is poison... Nohrian Wolfskin... Damn Nohrian blood and its contents... This damn Nohrian blood will be my downfall, will it not? Confirm it, Velouria: Nohrians are a damned race after all, murdering its own kin..." A tear slipped out of one of his distant eyes. "And for me to come from the line that rules this damned race, am I not ripe to blame for making it this way? Heavens! It's all my fault that Nohr is so wretched!"

Velouria gasped as tried to wake him from his trance with a few, and gentle, slaps on his cheek.

"No, no. Stop talking like that. You're lying to yourself, Siegbert!"

"How can I sleep my nights?" Before he could say anymore, Velouria's palm urgently set itself over his mouth, silencing him. As she continued to try hushing him with soothing words, she reached into one of her satchels. Her hand trudged through her newest treasures until she found the piece she wanted: a spiked stone she did not hesitate to yank out of the bag. It did not take long for her to make use of it, for a steady glow gave her the power to lift his limp body with ease. She thundered through the bramble to deliver him to help.

He remained still through out the entire trip, gazing blankly to the sky.

He could hear his each and every heartbeat.

How it thundered.

How it made the coarse of his veins roar.

Was it to stop today?

Strange... It pained him to wonder such.

Siegbert did not want to die, no matter how badly he dreaded himself.

Siegbert did not want the blood, the Nohrian blood, to halt its course through his body, no matter how badly he dreaded it.

Siegbert wanted to live.

How Siegbert wanted to live.

There were things he had to prove. To deliver. To accomplish. To compensate.

He lingered upon these things, even as the familiar sights of camp flew past his eyes. Everyone was upside down, staring at him as he passed. They sure looked funny with their concerned faces. He would have heaved a soft chuckle had he not felt that his breath was rationed. Each time he exhaled, his lungs tightened, restricting him from inhaling a breath larger than the last. He chocked. Betrayed by his own body. He needed to breathe.

Sweet, sweet breath...

It came to him when he felt himself sprawled onto a bed within the medical tent. Faces hovered over his own. They spoke, but the murmurs of his persistent heart drowned their words. Their lips moved, but he heard nothing. They also looked pretty funny. He tried laughing, but it ultimately went to his disservice, for he immediately felt his throat catch and force him to cough. The coughing wasted what little air he had left.

The faces left him alone. He thought they left to let him die.

Instead, however, he felt something, a leaf perhaps, shoved into his mouth. But he did not like leaves. Humans were not supposed to eat leaves... not besides that stuff that grew out of the ground. He forgot what they called it. He began to try to remember. In the meantime, against what he wanted, a hand gripped his chin and forced his teeth to repetitively clamp on the nasty thing that lingered within his mouth. With a cringe, he reluctantly felt it slide down his throat.

He knew he did not like leaves for a reason. That leaf started to make him feel tired. Or was it tiredness at all? He knew only one thing: darkness crept across his vision, choking it to death. He did not want it to win, but it won anyway. He became alone in utter silence, all during the time he did not want either the most.

He became scared.

In a crippling state of fear, he remained still. Should anything creep toward him, he would know and thus be prepared to brace himself. There was nothing he could do to fight against any shadowy fiend, but he could ready himself for anything a shadowy fiend would try.

A shadowy fiend...

Like the apparition of man armed with shurikens and menacing eyes. He appeared before Siegbert and began rushing toward him, weapons drawn and longing to sink into the thinness of his flesh. Siegbert found his body paralyzed, including his throat; he could not shout for help, nor scream to remedy the agony with which he was soon to be inflicted. The stars soared toward him, faster than a furious steed or the brightness of lightening.

He cringed, for he knew the impact would be great.

But it never befell upon him, for the deep tone of a noble lion roared his threat into submission. In an instant, his enemy evaporated into nothingness, leaving Siegbert alone.

But Siegbert could not call himself alone after all.

In the place of his attacker, there threaded the steady form of his father. His face hardened, not an alien expression for him to wear, and his body stood stoutly as he prowled. Before him Siegbert cowered more than ever. More than he had before the menace that appeared just moments beforehand. Such fear, such crippling fear, drove him to his knees. His palms kissed the invisible ground. He dipped his head submissively to perform a bow.

"Why do you struggle to look upon your father, Siegbert?" Xander inquired deeply.

"Because, father... No, High Prince Xander... No longer am I worthy to be deemed your son."

"Wherefore?"

"I have damned the name of Nohr, my liege, and such words are nothing short of treason. How could I possibly call you my predecessor when I disrespected your land? When I cursed it out of anger?"

"Anger?" Xander lifted a brow as he eased closer. He sat himself next to his son leisurely. "What has made you angry, Siegbert? Has this been a burden that has hovered over your head for a time, or were you speaking beneath the influence of the poison you've consumed?" To Siegbert's surprise, however, the man reached out with his hand, which he set upon the crown of his head. "Answer that not, son. I know why you are angry. Do you think me oblivious to the census you've been gathering as of late? Think me not, for I have been informed more than a fair share of times. You've been told something of your grandfather, perhaps by our enemies within the caves of Mokushu. It was something you did not like to hear, for it hindered the weakening faith you had in your kind."

The words were a pang to his withering heart, an infliction that almost became his end. He buckled beneath the pressure of the pain and proceeded to cope by heaving.

"Nay, I did not like it. For what reason? For what reason would our father launch war on a peaceful breed of people? How might we stand idly by as if to condone every splash of blood that wets this ground?"

"Instead of asking that, son, first ask what matters to you the most. Nohr or Hoshido?"

"Of course you would have foreknowledge of my response..."

"Do not simply give the me the answer I want to hear." Xander's voice became stern suddenly. Siegbert cowered again. "Concoct all you've gathered from your inquisitions. Only then should you properly give me your response."

Concoct his every inquisition... It was a boring task, but he obeyed nonetheless and left his guard to rot.

What did he truly love? It was obvious that he would remain loyal to the land and people he knew best, the land and people over which he was destined to rule... But why was he loyal to them? Was it just out of obligation? Just because it was all he knew? If he had abandoned the testimony of his blood and ventured into Hoshido to dwell among her people, what force would drive him straight back to the bosom of his mother and father? Mere familiarity was not enough.

The words of his answers flowed effortlessly into his mind, blending seamlessly into an intimate rope. He used that rope to slowly crawl from the pit in which he found himself hopeless.

Silas: his wife and his friends.

Jakob: his lord.

Benny: his family.

Camilla: her retainers and blood.

His eyes widened.

"Nohr. I am loyal to Nohr, High Prince Xander."

"Truly? Explain why."

"I am loyal to Nohr because I love its people. Our comrades. I wish to defend them with my all."

If he dared to take a peek, Siegbert would have seen how Xander cracked a slight smile. Warmth flooded into his eyes, once so chilled by sternness.

"A good answer, son," he hushed. "I remember a time, long before you were born... your grandfather was the same. He loved his people as he loved his family. When I dawned your age, he instilled a virtue in me: loyalty to a country is loyalty to a people, not a king nor a flag nor a plot of land. Hoshido is not the perfect country you've been swayed to believe. It too has its faults, just as every other civilization. After all, it is comprised of humans with human tendencies. My youth was littered with my father's concerns for our land. It had become infertile, and the weather refused to bless us. The people grew poor and hungry, unlike our prospering eastern neighbors. A harmless request to trade was delivered to Hoshido, but we did not know they were an isolated, prideful culture. For no reason at all, they denied our plea. They damned our people to starvation. As a result, your grandfather had no choice but to turn to the bitterness of force."

Siegbert's eyes dulled.

"But in doing so, he has started a war that has robbed so many innocents of their lives."

"It is very nature of war to have lives taken, innocent or not. Such is why I wanted you to ask yourself which you valued most, Siegbert. When wartime comes upon us as it has now, which would you rather see die? Your neighbors in your own country or the children of your enemy who will eventually rise to slaughter your neighbors?" Xander's frown steepened. "Do not think I like war, Siegbert. Do not think your grandfather likes war... At least that hasn't always been the case. He hasn't been the King Garon I knew from my youth, and I do not know what has happened to him. Though he appears to have backed down on them, I will not abandon the virtues he has taught me. I have hopes that you will do the same."

A stray tear slipped down Siegbert's cheek. A tear over which he had no control, and yet he did not fight against it as it embarked on a journey to his lips. Despite a remarkably dry throat, he refused to take it as it slid within the reach of his desperate tongue.

"Why is war so awful?"

"Because in this world, there roams a devil, a devil that aches for the suffering and hatred of humanity. He sends confusion and chaos betwixt those who do not understand one another. Until the day comes in which he is to go, this patten shall forever continue. We must buckle ourselves for the impact in order to retain our sanity. Do you understand now? Have I eased the anger welling within you?"

Sighing, Siegbert finally lifted his head. He saw the face of his father, who bore the golden locks of royalty. With the eyes that passionately sought what was just in his perception. With the throat that restrained bellows that demanded respect. So suddenly, he felt warmth burst within him. Rivers flowed from his eyes.

"I understand, father. Forgive me for my ignorance."

"You are not ignorant," Xander purred. In doing so, he gently made his way over to him. He lifted the boy into his feet with his powerful hands, whose arms promptly took him into a firm embrace. The embrace was different than those he received from those such as his mother or Camilla. Theirs were soft, but Xander's was sturdy. Even so, on such firmness, he found comfort when he nestled his face into his bosom. "You simply have not been taught to comprehend the things man does not naturally comprehend. As your father, it is my duty to teach you these things. Alas, I have failed, for I have been absent for too long. Until you do understand, son, come to me. Let me guide you as a father should. Be not ashamed."

He closed his eyes.

Darkness took him again.

"I shan't be ashamed, father..."

And he fell into a state of nothingness.

For the longest time, through the struggles of his incomprehensible trance, Siegbert thought he lingered within a limbo between heaven and earth. Was he not dead? Had not the poison of Velouria's blood taken him victim? He was not sure, for he could not wake himself to watch what happened around his vulnerable form. If he were dead, he would not feel so tired, but if he were alive, he would not feel so incredibly weightless, as if within a realm with no law.

The beauty of such a trance... It frightened him before long, and he wished for escape.

He found escape when his eyes suddenly opened.

His ears awakened, allowing him to hear the sounds around him. He heard soft sounds, ominous in nature, such as the harmonious crunching of leaves whispering through the darkness. A chill quivered along his spine. The more time he spent awake, the more his senses returned to him. The more his senses returned to him, the more he felt his clothes, such as the way the collar of his tunic chocked him or how he could not feel the back of his tunic against his skin. Confused brown eyes reached their fullness within moments, and they took notice of the moon spying between the eerie fingers of leafless trees.

He moved, but he did not move his feet.

The coos of an owl tried to hush him back to sleep.

He fought the owl and won.

At last, the grogginess of coming to wore thin, and the weariness of his dull conscience became obsolete. From his lips escaped a gasp as he started to struggle, only to find that his clothes were held by a force hovering above his head. He had been pinned to the air, which quickly brought worry.

"Wh-Who goes there? Release me!" He lifted his hands in attempt to swat at whatever possessed him, where his fingers brushed against softness. His fingers recognized it, but his mind somehow did not.

 _"Ooo..."_ a voice ululated from above. _"I am the supernatural usher to the realm of the afterlife. The pits of hell or the gates of heaven... To which shall I deliver you?"_

"A-A heavenly deliverer of souls?" Siegbert echoed in horror. "Have mercy, I beseech; find within you utmost kindness and I shall-" he grunted when dropped onto the ground. Fortunately, several layers of pine softened the impact. Quickly, with worry in his breath, he scrambled to his feet. Once he slipped, but he immediately corrected his mistake so he could gaze up at the source of the voice above him. There, looking down upon him, were two foreboding orbs, both glowing deep red.

 _"Dummy. Of course I'm not an angel or whatever. Did the poison damage your brain so badly you forgot who I am?"_ The orbs hovered closer to him. The moonlight, to which he slowly became adjusted, allowed him to barely manage to see the blocky head of a beast dipping its head. Its jaw departed from its snout to release a sharp, and slimy, tongue, which gently grazed across his single clean cheek.

Relief washed over him in and instant, even with a disgusting patch of saliva sliding down his face. As he tasked a hand to wipe the deed from him, he sounded with the subtleness of a sigh and plopped to the ground.

"My, am I happy to see you, Velouria," he muttered as heat spread across his cheeks. The embarrassment of their misunderstanding had him shyly hide his eyes.

 _"Oh. Good. You didn't forget after all. How are you feeling? I brought you something to make you feel better."_ A mighty paw extended itself to him, offering a small object. The dark handicapped what he could see of the present, but what little light with which he could work made him conclude that the shape was most likely a ball of crumpled paper. It was not paper. What he felt when he reached into her hands was something dreadfully squishy. Almost immediately, he retracted.

"Wh-What is it?" he asked awkwardly. Velouria did not skip a beat.

_"It's the lungs of a bat. Bat lungs are a great remedy for headaches or upset stomachs, so you should eat it if you aren't feeling good."_

"W-Well, the offer is amazingly generous, but I'm going to have to decline... I'm feeling fine, in all actuality. Whatever herb I had been given in the medical tent has refreshened me quite so." He looked around suddenly, allowing his brows to sink. "Speaking of which... Why have you extracted me from the tent and delivered me to the heart of the forest? Would it not be the wiser to return me should an emergency take me hostage?"

Velouria's hand moved to the ground, most likely to set her prize inside a nest of pine needle and brush. It no longer had necessity for the time being. A bright glow allowed her to return to the way she knew him best: with hands delicate, fingers minute, eyes soft, and features smooth. Upon completing the deformation, she urged closer to him until she sat directly before his sitting body. Coloring, she plotted her hands between her legs.

"I took you because we need the privacy, don't you agree?" she breathed heavily from her nostrils. "I waited for you and your dad to get done with your heart-to-heart. It's our turn to have one now. You know what I'm getting at, don't you? Don't tell me the poison did make you forget some stuff."

Siegbert reddened again, but furiously in comparison to his previous bought. He fought every urge within his body to flee from the situation, but it would be a waste to flee. Never should he flee from the things that were important to him. He knew that, and deep down it convicted him greatly.

"Um... You must be speaking of... Erm..." Her eyes impulsively fell on a pair of wrists: Velouria's wrists. Both hid from the elements and dangers behind two protective snakes of gauze. The thought of the dizziness caused by the crimson beneath such gauze almost drove him to scoot away, even with no immediate threat available to spook him. "You must be speaking of the act I bestowed upon your wrists when you were injured... However long ago that happened to be."

"Mm hm!" She lifted the hands he once spied upon in secret. Unaware that he had already snagged his share glances at them, she displayed her wounds with pride. "After I explained to Daddy why you were in the medicine tent, he told me about how he talked to you while I was sick." Her eyes hardened with seriousness suddenly, but they landed upon him with merciful wings. "We should discuss that."

Siegbert nodded subtly.

"It does seem particularly urgent..."

Velouria seemed to be more of a chameleon than a Wolfskin, he had to confess at times; her colors changed in an instant, long before the blinking of his attentive eyes. She went from charismatic to seriousness... to all over him. Literally. As if she, a Wolfskin, had betrayed his trust and saw his mere existence as prey, Velouria pounced, knocking him to the ground. She lingered atop his body, but no matter how roughly she kept him down, she took care as she drug the peak of her nose across the peak of his own. Her tail, wiry and soft, raised and vigorously treaded the air.

"Did you lick my wounds because of what Daddy said?"

"Might I ask you the suchlike?"

"Not until you answer me first."

"I lack comfort in doing such."

"Okay then. We should both say our answers at the exact same time. Ready? Three... Two... One..."

Without a second thought, perhaps because he felt rushed, Siegbert allowed his lips to part.

"Yes!"

Velouria burst into a fit of howling laughter, but also yet to give her answer. She collapsed on top of his form, giving no regard to his grunts. She coiled herself, heaved a relaxed sigh, then quickly adjusted herself into a state of comfort. All in the meantime, with shock gathering in his bamboozled gaze, Siegbert stared at his audience: the moon, who still intruded through the canopy. He accused the moon of being rude for its nosiness.

"Y-You tricked me," he breathed.

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? Humans have the male present his affections for a female first, don't they?"

"Traditionally, yes, but that's not what I-"

"I really, _really_ like you, Siegbert... I'm sorry I lied. I was just trying to do it like you humans do it. It's the least I can do when you've gone out of your way to adapt to the ways of Wolfskin..." She eased her head to his. Their eyes, both plush, locked into an intense gaze of mutuality... At least until Siegbert felt a tongue sloppily run across his lips. Taken back in surprise, his gaze widened. "That's how humans show their love for one another, right?"

The redness invading his face deepened, and his eyes lowered to the state of a dying hearth. Her arms instinctively roped around her torso, where his hands tied themselves over the small of her back. His lips began to quiver at the mere thought of any further action.

"A kiss, you mean? Not quite, but you're credibly close..." The union with his hands broke so that a division would embark on a long journey. The tips of his fingers traveled along plains of moonlight spread across the back of her coat, whose hood he gently tugged away to unleash a torrent of silver locks. His fingers paddled through a perilous river that flowed in spite of his efforts. Sheer determination allowed for triumph in the underdog, who found land on one of her fuzzy ears. He caressed those ears ever so gently with marvel. "It's a bit more like this..." He nudged her head lower so that they would meet at last.

They remained that way for the longest of times... Almost until they felt sleep try to intrude and invite them to its dwelling. Humoring such an offer would separate them, a tragedy in their eyes. They rejected the prompt upon presentation, fearful of having to leave the other's presence.

But they did part eventually, just not at the invitation of slumber. Instead, it was for the invitation of breath.

"That was nice. I can see why you humans like it," Velouria commented softly.

"Indeed..." he whispered. "I have much for which I should thank you, Velouria... For rushing to my aid when I needed it the most... For remaining dedicated to me, even when I was in the worst of states... So thank you. In turn, I hope to restore your favors six, no, _seven_ fold."

"You don't have to do any of that. I helped you because I like you, Siegbert. There's no trouble in helping someone I like..." She dipped her head again to press her lips against his, then depart quickly, but only to rub noses once more. He listened as she took a series of deep, intimate sniffs, which she released with a satisfied moan. Her tail twitched back and forth. "I guess we should get started, shouldn't we?"

"Started?" Siegbert echoed, slowed by confusion. "With what?" His heart burned when he felt a pair of nimble hands slide down the contours of his face, but instinctively paused where his clothing began to cover his neck. Her fingers fondled with folds of fabric before trying to tug them out of her way. "What are you doing?"

"We need to get done with what I've brought you out here for: to seal the pact," she replied thickly. Her tongue departed from her mouth to give his cheek a quick lash. In the meantime, Siegbert's eyes widened.

"The pact?"

"Yeah."

"What pact?"

Velouria lifted her head to stare down at him. He could brilliantly see how her crimson gaze brightened beneath a lunar glow. Slowly did the flow of emotion roll within the depths of her gentle irises. He failed to decipher whatever emotion welled within such an intense look, perhaps because it was a complicated concoction of many.

"You're funny, human. We really don't understand much of each other after all." Her gaze returned to the plushness she showed him before. Another attack from her tongue made his eyes close and hesitantly open again. "You licked my wounds after I licked yours, don't you remember?"

"How could I possibly forget?"

"In Wolfskin culture, when a male first licks a female's wounds, it's an invitation to mate."

Their conversation became stagnant in an instant. Siegbert's eyes were at their widest at last, and his heart finally quickened to the point of exhaustion.

"I..." he stumbled in trying to sound his words properly. "I didn't... um... know that..." He did a poor job of stopping Velouria when she, after a brief shrug, proceeded to continue stripping him, such as intimately trailing her hands down the center of his tunic, leaving a trail of unfastened buttons. He worked up the courage to urgently snatch her palms by the time she had his chest exposed to the chilliness of night. "Having not been aware of this, we should disregard the pact... At least until we are both ready for this sort of commitment."

"But I thought you were ready," Velouria strained. "Isn't that the reason why you nearly killed yourself cleaning my wound?"

"As I said before, I wasn't aware of such guidelines! I... I simply thought them as a harmless breed of confession, similar to that of a boy giving a girl a peck on the cheek."

As he spoke, he did not notice how Velouria's pupils, once round and docile, slimmed into intense slits. He realized how animalistic they had become only moments after it was too late. His heart caught fire as his lips sealed themselves, only to promptly open again to gape in fear.

"Maybe next time you shouldn't dabble in something sacred when you're incompetent," she heaved forebodingly. In doing so, her grip around her victim tightened despite his struggles. "Keep the pact, Siegbert."

"Pl-Please let me go."

"You need to keep pact, Siegbert!"

"Perhaps another night?"

"No!"

"Velouria!" He saw an opening when a hand went to pin one of his shoulders onto the ground. He took the opportunity to flee for, almost literally, his life. Her hands grappled the looseness of his tunic in attempt to take him captive again, so fear drove him to shed his top in order to grant the rest of his body liberation. With Velouria distracted by the confusion of being left with only an article of clothing, he had ample time to gather his distance and weave through trees that became his menacing foes. His sprint would become a stumble when, after he had gotten a ways away, he felt the ground shake; Velouria had already covered a frightening amount of ground, having morphed into a formidable beast.

 _"Siegbert! You unfaithful dastard!"_ She thundered effortlessly through the thicket with a series of blood-curdling howls. The trees bowed before her. Birds awoke and frightfully took to the skies. Siegbert urged his feet to hasten, even if the request seemed far too pressing. He knew he gathered more distance when the wind, and scratchy thorns, beat harder against his naked chest.

He ran almost until the sun decided to rouse. It, of course, was not long before he became overwhelmed by immense exhaustion. When he no longer felt the ground tremble from the pursuit of his follower, he slowed to allow his tired feet to clumsily drag through the mounds of needles and leaves. In the meantime, his dry throat gasped for breath. In order to obtain what was needed, he came to a pause, leaned over, then planted his hands on his tired knees. His mouth gaped open widely.

But then, suddenly, he heard the steady rumble of a growl. Seldom had such a simple sound brought so much terror into his eyes and warmth into his heart. When he lifted his head, his eyes fell upon the source of such a frightful noise: the thickness of an oak, where the head of a monster slowly emerged. Its beautifully sharp teeth shined on display. Its nostrils flared open as wide as they would allow. It lowered itself into all fours as it slowly crept closer to him, spine arching. Having no energy left within his pitiful body, Siegbert had no choice but to fearfully ease away in proportion to each step the beast took.

"V-Velouria... I beg you: find sympathy for m-my uncultured behavior. Had I been made aware of the sacredness of such an act I committed beforehand, I would have handled it with leagues more precaution."

_"You've disappointed me greatly. I'm angry."_

"Seeing that you gardened expectations from promises that were made to you, I e-excuse such." He trembled. "But see this: by no means am I attempting to persuade you out of this entire pact entirely, I just... I intend for us to do it another time. Not immediately. Can we at least compromise on that?"

Velouria gazed at him without a word, a response Siegbert found frightful. She foreshadowed nothing, but he could not flee immediately. Whatever chance he had of making peace with her would be demolished should he turn and run the fastest he could. In this domain, the forest, Velouria's domain, he was sure to be captured at some point or another. Because of such, he needed to be on the best terms he could possibly find with her.

To his horror, Velouria did not want to compromise... At least that was how it seemed at first. She said nothing as her mouth quickly dipped to snag his trousers into her teeth, denying him escape as she lifted him into the air. He begged for release as he made attempts toward liberation from those garments as well, but he paused before long; it would disservice him greatly to shed his trousers, especially in light of the goal Velouria pursued.

To his luck, however, she seemed to give up on such a goal.

With him in tow, she prowled along the woods for a short while until she found a patch of land she favored. There, with her monstrous paws, she gorged a dip into the ground, into which she settled herself. Once flopping onto her back, she dropped him on the soft grass of fur that masked her taut belly. As Siegbert made attempts to steady himself upon her body, the sloppiness of a tongue that brushed against his face interrupted him.

_"Fine. I'll make your dumb compromise, but I'm going to hold you to your promise. If you back down, I'm coming after you."_

The fact that both of them eventually slipped into the world of slumber posed as a silent handshake.

                                                                               THE END


End file.
